


Curriculum Vitae

by tiffdawg



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Idiots to friends to lovers, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Professor Peña, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, including:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiffdawg/pseuds/tiffdawg
Summary: curriculum vitaenouncur·ric·u·la vi·taeLatin. the course of one's life.After leaving Colombia and retiring from the DEA, Javier Peña steps into a new role as a university professor. A woman with multiple degrees and more books than you can count, you meet Javier as you similarly struggle with the future of your career. Despite your odds, the two of you find something you need in each other during uncertain times.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 385
Kudos: 426





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, the idea of Professor Peña has been on my mind lately (is this because I, myself, am pursing a career in academia? who’s to say ) and this multi-chapter, semi-slowburn, enemies/idiots-colleagues-friends-lovers story is the result. Just in case, I wanted to be clear that this story won’t be about a student-teacher dynamic – I went in a totally different direction. This will be a playful, sexy romance full of dreamy images of our favorite DEA agent turned university professor set against the backdrop of Los Angeles of the 1990s. I also want to note that UCLA is about to take some hits in this story, specifically the sociology department, but it’s just for the plot. I’m a UC alumna myself so mad respect any bruins out there! Anyway, I’ve already fallen in love with this story and I’m so excited to share it with you!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Period-typical sexism, mild language.

Checking your reflection in a nearby window, you straightened your blouse and mentally prepared yourself to knock on the imposing door in front of you. Your top was sticking to you in all the wrong places, probably from your nerves as much as the dry heat of August in Los Angeles and you really wished the university would be a bit more forthcoming with the air conditioning. The chair of the sociology department usually opted to pass along information via a memo, phone call, or through the office’s shared secretary, the latter being his preferred method. You knew it wasn’t good when he called you personally to ask for a meeting.

Steeling yourself, you rapped your knuckles against the old wooden door and listened for the brusque _enter_ from your boss.

“Good morning, Dr. Campbell,” you announced politely, “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Ah, yes! Please come in.” He gestured to the overstuffed leather chair across from his wide mahogany desk and you sat yourself on the edge of the seat, crossing your legs at your ankles. His spacious office was lined with rows upon rows of well-read books and shelves stocked with awards and accolades. He was an intimidating man on a good day, but this was torture. You watched attentively as he cleared his throat and shuffled a few loose papers around on his desk before finally looking up at you through the thin wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, seemingly intent on drawing out the awkward interaction for as long as possible. “I’m afraid I have some rather sour news for you, miss.”

Gritting your teeth, you ignored his gaffe; whether the man never remembered your proper title or just refused to acknowledge it, you’d never know, although you had your suspicions. At that precise moment, it was the rest of his statement that unnerved you.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Concerning what, exactly?” you prompted, hoping he would take the bait and get this over with already. He was a man known for being a bit long-winded.

“Well, your tenure,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Or, pardon my candor, lack thereof.”

… . …

You needed to get off that godforsaken campus.

Hastily unlocking the door to your office, letting it fling open without much concern for the wall behind it, you stomped in with a little less decorum than you usually maintained at work. You threw open your bottom desk drawer and dug out your crossbody purse and large tote, tossing both carelessly onto your desk, and then proceeded to shove a few of the books and notepads strewn about your cramped workspace into your bag. You would work on your lectures for the upcoming quarter at home over the weekend, too upset to stay at the university for a second longer than you absolutely had to.

As you made your exit, the framed degrees you’d proudly hung on your wall caught your eye. You could’ve sworn they were glaring at you, taunting you.

“Useless. All three of you.”

… . …

“You are an exemplary lecturer, instructor, and researcher, and the university is fortunate to have you among our prestigious faculty,” Dr. Campbell droned on, clearly trying to soften the blow.

“However?”

“The department cannot offer you a tenured position at this time.” He rested his forearms on his desk, his bony fingers forming a pointed steeple.

You drew in a deep breath of air and dug your nails into the soft flesh of your palm, sure to leave ugly crescent moons. “I’m not sure I understand, sir,” you ground out. “This is my sixth year as an assistant professor. I was offered this professorship with the understanding that it was a tenure-track position and last year when I was _overlooked_ for tenure, I was well-assured that this year would be different.”

The man across from you sighed again, clearly not enjoying the fact that he had to deal with an angry woman. “I am aware of the situation, lest you forget I was the one who offered you this position in the first place.”

“Then can I ask what’s changed?”

“In all honesty, the matter is out of my hands,” he placated. “This directive is coming from the dean’s office. Beyond our department, the school of social sciences is offering fewer positions this year and diverting funds elsewhere, hopefully, if I may be so bold to suggest, to services beneficial to our rapidly increasing student population.”

It took every ounce of willpower you had not to roll your eyes at his explanation. “And are competent, contented professors not beneficial to our students?”

“Well, the sociology department is being gifted a rather impressive visiting lecturer for the year.”

… . …

“ _Beneficial to our students?_ ” Beverly scoffed into her end of the receiver. If there was anyone in the world you could count on to be even angrier for you than yourself, it was her. Not only was she your best friend in Los Angeles – actually, at this point, probably the world – but she worked in student services and understood university politics even better than you did. “God, I can’t believe that pretentious asshole had the gall to say that to you.”

“You’re telling me,” you mumbled, precariously cradling the phone to your ear with a shoulder as you set the timer on your microwave oven.

“And I’m still shocked that they’re doing this to you again,” she continued, “The department promised you tenure. Literally, promised. I remember you telling me word for word what was said at that meeting last fall.”

“Oh, don’t worry so do I.” You sniffed at a second container of leftovers, making a face when you decided the crispy tofu and Chinese broccoli hadn’t survived a few days in the fridge nearly as well as the veggie curry. “I think I etched that conversation into my brain because some part of me knew this was going to happen.” You resealed the container and moved to throw it away, only making it halfway across your kitchen before the phone cord pulled taut and nearly drugged you backwards. “Shit, hold on.”

You picked up the receiver just as your microwave beeped and you were fairly certain Beverly was laughing at you. She’d been on enough calls where you actually did overextend yourself and drop the phone to know exactly what had happened.

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Sulk, probably.”

“Nah, that doesn’t sound like you,” she challenged. “I’ve worked at that university for nearly a decade and to this day you’re one of the most determined, hard-working, dedicated professors I’ve ever met.”

“Bev–”

“No! Scratch that. One of the most determined, hard-working, dedicated people I’ve ever met anywhere in my entire life.”

You chuckled as you stirred the remnants of your red curry and jasmine rice. “What would I ever do without you?”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she scolded, “But that’s alright because I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” you quipped.

“I’m going to ignore the sarcasm, this time, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You knew not to argue when she was using her mom voice on you.

“Now, listen carefully. You’re going to throw yourself into your work, as you are so prone to doing, and make this your best year yet. I’m talking professor-of-the-decade worthy.”

“I don’t think that’s a real thing,” you said with a laugh.

“You know what I mean! And I’m not finished so stop interrupting me.” She paused to make sure you were done being cheeky. “You’re going to make this your best goddamn year of teaching, research, mentorship, and whatever else it is you do, and if they don’t offer you tenure at the end of it, you’re going to remember your worth and then go where that’ll be appreciated. UCLA be damned.”

You were quiet for a long moment as you considered your words. They pulled at something hidden inside of you and were simultaneously encouraging and deeply uncomfortable. “I can’t just–”

“You can. You’re free to do whatever you need to do for yourself, and you should. There’s nothing tying you here. No family, no kids, no tenure-track, that’s for sure.” You swallowed around a lump forming in your throat and ran a hand over your face. “You still there, sweetie?”

“Yeah,” you said, switching the receiver to your other ear. “Yeah, and you’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” You could practically see the grin on her face. “If they don’t have the money to make you an associate professor, at the very least, then you should go somewhere that will.”

“That’s the best part. I’m pretty sure they do. The department is bringing in a new visiting lecturer so you can’t tell me they don’t have some discretionary funds.”

“Really? Who?”

You moaned. “One of the guys who brought down Pablo Escobar. It’s a fucking publicity stunt.”

“Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.” There was a crash on the other end of the line followed by an ear-piercing shriek. “I’m really sorry babe, but I gotta go. Henry’s going to be home soon and I’m making dinner and the baby’s crying and I think the other two are trying to kill each other. Again.”

“Oh, no. Go take care of your family. I’m sorry I called – I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“No, I’m so glad you did. I was worried when you didn’t show up at our usual spot for lunch today. I’m sure this will all work out in the end somehow. I’ll see you Monday.”

You hung up the landline, silencing the dial tone. You scanned your empty apartment, your eyes dancing between the random stacks of books, your cluttered dual-purpose kitchen table/worktop, and your makeshift bedroom partially partitioned from the rest of the studio. You exhaled and skewered a few rapidly cooling vegetables onto your fork as you thought over Beverly’s words. Your whole life fit inside these four walls. There wasn’t anything tying you down besides your hope that your hard work would finally be rewarded. While that should’ve been reassuring, it just tore at your already broken heart.

This couldn’t be all there was for you.

 _Something_ had to change.

A spunky bark pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. “Is it dinner time for you too, Sunny?”

A second bark and a wagging tail confirmed your suspicion.

Well, at least you weren’t entirely on your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you finally meet Javier Peña at the back to school faculty social. It goes about as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one is here and so is Professor Peña. Here. We. Go. Oh, and p.s. my plan is to keep these chapters capped at around 3k so they’re short and sweet and the story is updated fairly frequently. Let me know what you think so far!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Mild language.

You woke peacefully before your alarm had the chance to frighten you into consciousness. It was becoming a more common occurrence now that you had Sunny. You’d never been much of a morning person, always opting to hit snooze three or four times before rolling out of bed, but that changed ever since you found the little border collie mix a year ago. She’d developed a habit of slowly inching her way up from the foot of the bed where she usually slept to your pillows as the sun started to peak in through your curtains. She was quiet, never purposely waking you, but you always felt the warm puffs of air from her wet little nose as she laid her face next to yours. Even before you opened your eyes you could feel her patiently watching you and as soon as you cracked a smile, her tail would start wagging and she’d pounce, covering your face with kisses.

All in all, it was a much better way to wake up.

You threw on a worn, tattered sweatshirt with _UCLA_ splayed across the front in collegiate lettering that you always kept close to your bed and the nearest pair of denim cutoffs before grabbing her lead and your keys. Nowadays, mornings started with a brisk walk to the park around the corner from your apartment. As always, she ran a few dozen laps around the enclosed dog park, sprinting off as soon as you unhooked the leash to happily greet everyone she came across, dog or human. In terms of picking up a stray off the street, you really hit the jackpot.

While Sunny ran around the grassy lawn, you chatted with the older lady who always showed up with three pugs, the roundest of which perched itself on your lap. Mrs. Hong amused you with tales of her grandchildren and her husband’s latest home-improvement exploits, as she did most mornings, while you scratched behind the little fawn-colored dog’s ears.

Back at your studio, you showered quickly, darting out of the ice-cold water as soon as possible. As much as it pained you, you were going to have to call your landlord about the issue with the water heater. For the hundredth time that summer.

Sighing to yourself, you powered through your beauty routine but spent a little extra time selecting your outfit for the day. The annual faculty-staff breakfast social was that morning, signifying the coming of a new school year. Eventually you settled on a new sandy beige pantsuit you’d splurged on only because it was lightweight enough for the scorching temperatures that always persisted until well into October and started as early mid-April. Dressing for the seasons meant something entirely different in Southern California. You paired it with a black tee tucked into a vintage belt you thrifted recently in Silverlake.

It was put together but effortless. Smart and economical but still stylish. Your own personal brand of academic chic.

You always put a lot of thought into your clothes. They were an important part of first impressions, and you wanted people to respect you, to take you seriously. However, unlike most of your colleagues, you were not a sixty-year-old man, so bowties and tweed blazers were out of the question. You had to find your own sense of fashion as far as workwear was concerned. That outfit, you decided, would make the perfect first impression for the new term, even if you didn’t expect to meet anyone new that day.

Forgoing breakfast, hoping the spread promised at the social would be better than the previous year’s, you refilled Sunny’s water dish and added a scoop of kibble to her bowl before heading out for the day.

It was already a warm morning, but there was a light ocean breeze rustling the palms lining the boulevard. Really, it was the best LA had to offer that time of year. You walked a well-wore path, the same one you took every day to work for the past three years you’d been living in your current studio. You were familiar with every crack, every dip, every uneven crease of the sidewalk on the route to campus, and, like usual, you popped into your favorite coffee shop to grab something to go, never quite trusting the office pot.

As you strode up to your department’s building, you were just starting to think that _maybe_ this year wouldn’t be so terrible after all. You’d allowed yourself to wallow for the past couple of weeks after finding out you wouldn’t be able to solicit tenure, again, but _maybe_ the beautiful summer day and your spirited mood were signs from the universe that things were finally going to improve.

And then you collided with a stranger’s broad chest.

And your perfectly brewed latte went _everywhere_.

“I’m sorry,” you both offered at the same time.

“It’s my fault. No idea where I’m going,” the man said in a low voice.

“That’s okay.” You tried to make him feel better, but he could probably hear the anguish in your voice as you grimaced at your brand-new outfit. So much for a good first impression for the year. You tossed your cup in the nearest trash can.

“Shit,” he cursed. If half of your latte was dripping down your pantsuit, then the rest was all over his crisp white dress shirt. You grimaced but noted for your own benefit that the rest of his navy suit was mostly unscathed. It looked new, albeit a little loose with slight creases at the elbows. Even covered in coffee it looked good on him. Although, the thought crossed your mind that just about anything would pair well with his dark, lazily styled hair and soft brown eyes.

A pained look crossed his expressive eyes, but then he just shook his head and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the courtyard bewildered and covered in piping hot coffee. _Well_ , you thought to yourself, _that was sufficiently awkward_.

Darting into the nearest bathroom, you dabbed at your jacket with a wad of wet paper towels. “God, just when I thought my luck was starting to turn around,” you muttered as you attempted to salvage your clothes. Maybe the new school year wasn’t going to be so different after all. Luckily, when you slipped into the conference room more than a little fashionably late, no one seemed to notice.

You chatted with a few colleagues while you picked at a bagel – that alone was a vast improvement from the offerings at previous university events. Debra, the office secretary, had wrangled you into a conversation with Dr. Stanton, a so-called specialist in the brand new post-communist economies who spoke very much like an economist. He was regaling the group with tales from his summer research trip in eastern Europe, which was much less interesting than it might’ve sounded. You shot Deb a silent, scathing look and she just rolled her eyes at Stanton. Still, you stayed for her. At best, you had an uneasy friendship with her; there were only a few other women on your floor and so you generally enjoyed her presence, but she practically ran the sociology department herself and it was imperative that you always stayed on her good side. Deb could be a little finicky, so no one ever really knew where they stood with her. You nodded along with Stanton’s dull story mostly because you wanted to keep her happy, for both of the aforementioned reasons.

There was a slight lull in a particularly boring anecdote about governmental economic policies in the Balkans, and Deb leaned closer to you and Vivienne, as if she had a secret to share. “That’s _Javier Peña_ ,” she whispered.

You startled at the name. While unbeknownst to him, the man had been on the receiving end of much of your ire over the last few weeks. Logically, you knew it wasn’t his fault per se that you were still untenured, but he made for was a wonderful, faceless target.

Peeking over your shoulder, you recognized Javier Peña as the man you’d crashed into earlier. Only now Dr. Campbell and the school’s dean were chatting him up, presumably trying to impress their precious new lecturer. His jacket was buttoned, covering most of the coffee stains on his otherwise pristine suit. All in all, he was faring much better than you. When he met your stare from across the room, you turned away quickly.

Stanton had apparently walked away from the conversation when his audience stopped paying attention to him, so Vivienne didn’t even bother to lower her voice. “He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?” she asked coyly as she toyed with one of her chunky gold earrings.

You scoffed.

“You don’t think so?” Deb sounded absolutely scandalized.

“Not my type.” You stuffed the last of your bagel in your mouth, hoping that would prevent you from having to take part in this discussion any further.

Which was right when the man in question sauntered over.

“Debra, right?” he said with a smile, “I was told you could help me with my I.D. problem.”

“Of course! I heard all about that this morning,” she exclaimed, beaming at him and brushing her scarlet lacquered nails across his bicep, “I act as a secretary for everyone in the department so anytime you need anything feel free to come to me.”

“I’m Viv, secretary to the dean of social sciences,” Vivienne said, extending her hand, “And always happy to help too.”

He shook her proffered hand. “Javier,”

“I know,” she purred, “It’s a pleasure.”

Your eyebrows rose at her blatant flirting. Sure, Viv was a confident woman, but she was also very married.

He turned his focus to you. “Are you a secretary here as well, sweetheart?”

You blinked up at him, not even caring if he thought you were dense before taking a deep, steadying breath.  
“No.” You sounded almost sickly sweet as you pressed your lips together in a bad imitation of a smile. “And it’s doctor to you, not sweetheart.”

His jaw dropped slightly as he realized his mistake, but Deb returned with his brand new, laminated faculty ID, effectively distracting him just as Dean Dalton started his annual speech.

“I’d like to welcome you all back for another wonderful school year. And for the few new faces in the crowd, I’m thrilled you could join us. The sociology department at UCLA is at the forefront of…” The dean was much too chipper for you that morning, so you quietly snuck out of the conference room, figuring your time would be better spent finishing paperwork you’d been putting off.

As you walked through the department halls, you noticed a new nameplate on the recently retired Dr. Kaminsky’s office door. As with any workplace, discussions of who would take over the newly vacant office with a view of the campus green had raged all summer break. You stopped to get a closer look.

“Of fucking course.”

… . …

Javier noticed the instant you left the room, and he seriously considered following you so he could apologize for the second time that morning until he realized he had no idea who you were or where you went. He’d only been trying to ease the tension from when he’d literally ran into you earlier, completely lost on the new campus. Instead, he put his own foot in his mouth. Spectacularly so. 

No longer listening to the dean’s unnecessary welcome speech, he took a chance and leaned a little closer to Debra.

“Who was that?” he asked, hoping she’d know who he was referring to.

“Oh, don’t mind her,” she whispered back conspiratorially, “You’ll notice female faculty members are few and far between. She gets upset when she’s mistaken for staff. Really, I should be the one who’s offended. Being a secretary is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Right,” he muttered, leaning away and suppressing a groan.

… . …

“Sounds like the breakfast social went as well as those things ever do,” Beverly said as she took a bite of her salad. The two of you were sitting on your usual bench, halfway between the administration and social sciences buildings.

“Yeah, and as expected, everyone’s fawning all over Peña. You know, as far as I can tell he’s never even taught a class in his life.”

“Then why’d they make him a visiting lecturer?”

You thought about her question for a minute. “Well, even I’ll admit he’s got more field experience than anyone else here. At least where law enforcement and international relations are concerned. So, he’s…qualified.” you conceded, forcing out the last word.

“That was really hard for you, wasn’t it?”

“I think I need to go wash my mouth out with soap.” The two of you fell into a fit of laughter and it made you feel a little lighter. Beverly always knew how to turn even the worst situations into something bearable. And on the rare occasion she couldn’t, she threw herself down in the trenches with you. “But, goddamn, he’s such an asshole.”

She nodded along, having heard all about your morning went from good to bad to worse.

“Sorry Bev, I don’t mean to pile this all on you. I don’t even know why I’m complaining so much.”

“Are you kidding? I live for your stories. Here I’m a glorified secretary who has to run around fixing everything for every student on this campus and most of the admin. And at home? I’ve got three kids and a husband who eats, sleeps, and watches football. When he does talk to me it’s about golf or work – both of which are boring as hell. So please, for the love of God, tell me everything about you and this sexy Javier Peña.”

You just about choked on your food. “I never said he was sexy,” you said around a mouthful of veggie wrap.

“You didn’t have to,” she said with a smirk. You glowered at her when she didn’t explain herself. “You’ve been talking about this man for the past fifteen minutes when you’ve really only said five words to him.” She shrugged at your dumbfounded look. “Anticipating people’s thoughts is basically half my job description. Here and at home. Plus, you didn’t deny it.”

You chewed over her words slowly as you ate your wrap. Bev – and Debra and Vivienne – were right. For as much as he irritated you, there was something ruggedly handsome about the man.

“He’s still an asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration  
> [Reader's Outfit](https://www.harpersbazaar.com/fashion/models/g6607/model-off-duty-style/?slide=15)
> 
> [Sunny](https://doggosource.tumblr.com/post/186285415977/she-pretty-and-she-knows)
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier attempt to survive the first week of the new school year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your kind comments and support for this story so far! It means the world to me and I just love all of you with my whole heart.
> 
> As a side note: I'm going to include warnings at the beginning of each chapter but I will also update the story tags as needed. I think it will be helpful and I hope that makes sense for everyone. Always feel free to ask if you have any questions! Honestly, I’m still figuring out how to best use tags/what ratings mean on AO3. Just to be safe, eventually the rating will change to E – I'll be as clear as possible when that happens. But that won’t be for several chapters because all these two want to do is bicker.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Mild language.

On the first day of classes for the fall quarter, you were wide awake before Sunny had so much as stirred in her nest of blankets. Curled up at the foot of your bed, she watched you with sleepy eyes as you traipsed about the apartment making breakfast and dressing for the day, clearly confused as to why you were up so early for once. Although, that didn’t stop her from jumping up excitedly the moment you reached for her lead.

You had a lot on your mind as you watched Sunny race around the dog park. As part of your normal duties to the sociology department, you were teaching two classes, instructing two different independent study courses, acting as a secondary advisor to a handful of graduate students in the sociology and women’s studies departments, and whatever other responsibilities they saw fit to throw your way. Meanwhile, you had your own research to work on. It was going to be a busy quarter, to say the least. And on top of all of that, you knew you needed to exceed expectations – for all of it. 

This year had to be _perfect_.

The future of your entire career depended on it.

You were roused from your spiraling thoughts when Sunny trotted up to you, eyes shining, tail wagging, and a mud-covered stick hanging out of the side of her mouth. 

“Really, dog?” you mumbled more to yourself than to her as she offered it to you, “We’re in the middle of a drought and you have to find the one muddy stick in this whole park.” You took it with two fingers, mindful of your carefully selected outfit, before tossing it for her to fetch. 

You laughed as you watched her chase after it, happy as a dog could be. Attempting to channel some of her simple joy, you took a deep, steadying breath and tried to calm yourself. There was no reason that things wouldn’t work out just the way you wanted them to. Everything would be just fine.

… . …

Javier sighed as he looked out at the sea of faces before him. 

This should’ve been easy.

He’d chased _sicarios_ through the streets of Medellin, led raids on compounds in the heart of Colombia’s jungles, and took on two of the world’s most powerful drug cartels. He’d watched good men die and killed few of the bad ones himself. Hell, he’d personally looked death directly in the eye on more than one occasion. Somehow, he’d managed to come out alive every time. 

So, _this_ should’ve been easy.

He’d survived much worse than an overcrowded lecture hall full of expectant students staring at him, waiting patiently for him to do something, say something. Anything at all at this point.

“Fuck me,” he mumbled under his breath, hoping the microphone on the podium wouldn’t pick it up. He snuck a piece of gum, chewing until he tasted a hint of nicotine and then tucking it in between his cheek and jaw. This was his third attempt to quit smoking with it and he was already starting to regret not keeping a cigarette on him for something like this. 

Flattening his tie against his chest, he took a deep breath and pulled the microphone towards him.

… . …

Practically melting under the blazing sun in your matching black suit jacket and skirt set, you checked your wristwatch for the third time, noting that your first class of the quarter technically started in five minutes. Aside from the few students that had trickled out of the lecture hall, the previous class hadn’t left yet. It happened sometimes, especially early on in the quarter, but that thought did little ease your anxiety. 

No matter how many times you reviewed your new syllabus or rehearsed your lecture notes, no matter how well-versed you were in your subject, the first day of class always brought nervous jitters. You hadn’t been able to shake that sensation since kindergarten. 

A few more dragging minutes passed before you decided enough students had left the hall for you to _politely_ claim your classroom.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have been surprised to find Javier Peña at the podium. 

A decent-sized group of students surrounded the university’s newest celebrity as he attempted to answer questions and shove a stack of papers into his briefcase. As you walked towards the front of the room, you noticed he looked a bit tense, a slight scowl marring his handsome features, and for a split second you almost felt bad for him. Almost. That fleeting feeling was quickly quelled by a redheaded coed.

“Professor Peña, I know this class is full, but I really want to get it in this quarter,” she cooed, twirling a lock of fiery red hair and batting her baby blue eyes at him. The innuendo wasn’t lost on anyone and there was a round of giggles and snickers. You swore your eyes rolled into the back of your head. For a moment, you actually worried they might get stuck there.

Peña caught your unamused expression. In any other situation, you might’ve felt bad for being discourteous to your colleague, but so far, he’d only proven himself to be everything you’d assumed he was. The scene unfolding before you only strengthened your vow to resist his supposed charm. Just because everyone else was falling over themselves for him, didn’t mean you were going to line up to join the Javier Peña fan club.

“I think it’s capped at fifty students for now, but I’ll, uh, see what I can do,” he offered and a lyrical chorus of _thank you, professor_ rang out. No wonder the room was so full. Half of these students weren’t even in his class yet.

“That’d be so great, professor,” an enthusiastic young man added, “Taking a class with you really is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

Having heard more than enough, you cut in. “I have a class that starts in exactly one minute. Do you mind?” you clipped, not even bothering to hide your annoyance. 

“Sure,” he acknowledged, raising his brow at you, before he turned back to his congregation, “I guess I’ll answer any remaining questions outside.”

The crowd dispersed into excited chatter and you pushed your way to the podium. “You know, office hours might be a better time to sign autographs, Peña.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, _doctora_ ,” he shot back as he brushed past you. 

At least he got your title right. You glowered at him anyway.

Deciding not to dwell in the interaction any further, you took your place at the front of the lecture hall. You wrote your full name and office hours on the chalkboard – a customary practice for the first day – and when you looked back out at the classroom, the seats were fairly full. You were ready to start. Until you noticed Peña watching you from where he stood, having only made it halfway to the door, and you lost your words for a moment.

“Welcome to Sociology 178: Gender, Violence, and the Justice System,” you finally announced to your class without ever taking your eyes off him.

Something in his expression changed. It caught you off guard and you didn’t know what to make of it, but there was definitely _something_ there. You broke away from his stare to pass around stacks of syllabi, and he surprised you again when he snatched one off the top of a pile that made its way to the back of the hall. Feeling nervous for a completely new and entirely unwelcome reason, you resumed your place at the podium, but when you looked for him again, he was gone.

In all honesty, you weren’t sure what to make of his actions. So, you started your well-rehearsed spiel about the course subject, assignments, expectations, and the like, having far more important things to worry about than one hotshot visiting lecturer.

… . …

By the second day of classes, you were already starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the new school year. 

And it was only day two.

It was also evident that Tuesdays were going to be your most hectic day of the week that quarter. You had routine meetings all morning followed by your graduate seminar in the afternoon, among numerous other things. Granted, you were especially excited about that class – it was a research colloquium for graduate students about methodologies of gender and race studies in sociology. After spending half of the previous year fighting for the topic, you finally _won_. It was a small seminar but full of enthusiastic students and you were pouring your heart and soul into it.

Even with all the preparation in the world, there were always adjustments that needed to be made after the initial class meetings. Especially with your graduate classes. After reviewing the course syllabus, you always ensured you solicited feedback from your students – and they never disappointed you. Someone always suggested an author or article or discussion topic that you had overlooked, and the class was always better for it. 

On top of that, you now had a third independent study course to plan. That was a last-minute concession for an undergraduate student you happened to like and took pity on when she came to beg for help during your office hours that morning. Needless to say, that was how you ended up in the library late that evening and certainly well past your normal working hours. 

In fact, it was cutting into your dinner time at this point and your stomach was not exactly pleased with you. You’d promised yourself you were going to cook at home more this term, but your favorite pho spot just happened to be on the way back to your apartment and it was starting to seriously tempt you. Your gaze drifted away from the books before you to the small window next to your desk where the day was slipping over the horizon. As the sherbet orange and pink sunset cast a warm glow over the campus, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the glass.

You were…a little frazzled. To say the least. 

But that was to be expected. It happened every quarter until you fell into a new routine. Things would settle as they always did. You had no reason to expect anything different.

So, you picked up your pen and turned back to your work, promising yourself you’d call it a night after another half hour. 

Well, maybe an hour.

… . …

As Javier walked through the rows of books, dragging a lazy finger across the spines, the titles became an incomprehensible blur of debossed letters. He never expected to find himself in a university library again. Not after all these years. He felt as lost and out of place as he probably looked. 

He’d been scouring the shelves for something – _anything_ – he could use for his classes, having come to the abrupt realization that he needed to supplement his half-assed lectures with actual assignments. Just as he decided the whole exercise was pointless, he rounded the corner and found you sat by yourself at one of the large communal workspaces, books strewn about everywhere. You were determinedly flipping through the pages of a massive text, your sharp eyes searching for something. 

You were gorgeous. 

He’d thought so from the first time he saw you. Even after he spilled coffee all over you.

And you looked like you knew what you were doing.

“ _Doctora_ ,” he attempted before he thought better of it. Your head snapped up from your book and you met his gaze with wide eyes. The pen you’d been absentmindedly chewing on fell from your mouth. He grimaced when he realized he’d startled you. It was the first week of classes; there was hardly another soul in the library that evening and you had probably thought you were alone.

“What do you want?” you asked tersely, “What are you even doing here?” He noticed that you were a little more disheveled than usual. Every time he’d seen you so far, you’d been impeccably and professionally put together. But even now, the warm fluorescent lamplight softened your tired expression becomingly, despite the way you scowled at him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he remarked lamely, hoping you’d play along anyway. He’d been good at that sort of thing once, hadn’t he? Flirting with women had practically been part of his job. Yet every conversation with you was progressively worse than the last. Maybe he was more out of practice than he thought.

“I’m working,” you answered, your irritation with him clear. But he also saw you wince at your own words, as if being discourteous didn’t come naturally to you. You let out an exasperated sigh he assumed was directed as much at him as the work in front of you. “If you really want to know, I’m compiling a reading list for a student who requested an independent study at the last-minute. She put together a decent course plan herself, but there were a couple books I wanted to add, and I didn’t want to hand off the list without double-checking the most important pages. No need to assign unnecessary work.”

“You’re thorough.”

“Try to be. Although, it’s really just my job. What are you doing?” you echoed your earlier question. “I’m surprised you found the library.”

“It took me a while.” His hands fell to his hips and his eyes danced across the stacks of books on your table rather than look at you. “I just– I’m looking for books on…something. I still haven’t finished the syllabus. For either of my classes.”

“There’s a surprise,” you mumbled under your breath as you started to gather your things. You placed a few books on a nearby cart marked _reshelve_ before finally looking at him again. You gave him a sour smile before retorting, “Welcome to academia, Peña.” 

“Is there a reason you’re always a bitch to me?” He regretted it the second the words slipped out. He’d approached you with the hope of mending things between the two of you, to ask you for help, even. But even though it was only Tuesday, it had already been a god-awful week. He was at his wit’s end and his mouth got ahead of his brain. “I didn’t mean–”

“You don’t deserve to be here,” you seethed, a fiery anger flickering through your eyes.

“You think I don’t fucking know that,” Javier snapped, the apology dying on his lips. 

Your face fell for a moment as you considered his words, replaced by a look that was equal parts angry and confused. Instead of continuing to argue with him, you switched off the table lamp and stormed off. He actually would’ve preferred it if you’d yelled at him.

“God, I’m fucked,” he cursed to himself as he watched your receding figure. He needed to get out of that library and off campus. He needed a drink. And, if he was luckier that he had been so far that evening, a good lay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this [90's vintage Dior suit](https://www.rustyzipper.com/shop.cfm?viewpartnum=328994-A21010) was the closest inpso I could find for Reader's suit in this chapter. I personally always _loved_ Hilary Bank's suits on the Fresh Prince and I know she must've worn one like that at some point, but I couldn't find a picture! Her character was such a fashion icon.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, my loves!
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you start to see a different side to Javier Peña as he struggles to adjust to academia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how crazy it makes me that the chapter count is off by one because I _had_ to include a prologue and now it says "Chapter 4: Chapter Three." I'm attempting to learn how to fix that but AO3 is complicated so let's all pretend it doesn't say that for my sanity. Thank you for your cooperation in these difficult times.
> 
> More importantly!! Thank you for your comments and kudos on the last chapter! I'm so excited that you guys are enjoying the story and I hope you know that literally every comment takes me out for twenty minutes because they make me so stupidly happy. I love you all!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Intense gazing. Mild language.

When you entered your lecture hall on Wednesday morning, once again affording Peña plenty of time to clear out, the scene from Monday repeated itself almost verbatim. He was at the podium, shoulders slightly hunched and hands grasping either side of the cherry wood, surrounded by an excited crowd of students. You’d hoped you would miss him entirely – especially after what had happened in the library – but it seemed luck was not on your side. So, you sipped idly at the lukewarm remnants in your cardboard coffee cup, figuring you might as well watch the show. Speaking sure as hell never seemed to work well for the two of you.

The only difference was that this time, he noticed you right away. You suddenly felt self-conscious in your simple black trousers and modest blouse under his intense scrutiny, and you wondered what he was looking for as he stared at you for just a moment too long. You half-expected him to make some caustic remark. While neither of you had been particularly kind to the other the night before, you probably would’ve deserved it. His words had stung, but it was nothing you hadn’t heard a hundred times before. While you didn’t exactly regret anything you had said, you did wonder if you might’ve struck too deep a nerve. Instead, he turned to his students and told them to talk to him during his office hours.

“When _are_ your office hours, sir?” a young man asked, the same overeager student from Monday.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know,” he said dismissively, scratching his brow. With that, the students started to wander off and you parted the sea of stragglers to get to the chalkboard. You intended to use it for your lecture and there was a scrawling mess of some Cyrillic language, no doubt _not_ from Peña’s class. However, he beat you to the eraser.

“I’ve got this, _doctora_.”

You actually felt your head tilt to the side and it strangely reminded you of the way Sunny cocked her head when you spoke to her. Like she recognized your voice, heard your words, but didn’t understand the language. His kindness surprised you and you weren’t sure if he was taunting you with his new diminutive of choice or attempting to apologize in his own strange way. At least _doctora_ was accurate, and it was a hell of a lot better than sweetheart. “Thanks,” you offered hesitantly, “I think.”

When he finished erasing the first panel and moved to the second, you picked up a scrap of chalk and started writing a list of key terms and important names you didn’t want to have to bother with during your lecture. All the while, you hated the way your eyes kept casting to the side, stealing unintentional glances at Peña. Your hand idled as you lost your focus in favor examining the way he moved even as he did something as simple and mundane as clear a chalkboard. But, as ridiculous as it was, you found that you were unable to stop yourself from watching the pull of his light gray suit jacket around his body or the clap of his hands as he attempted to remove the chalk dust.

And in your folly, he caught you.

He smirked at you as he adjusted his boldly pattern tie that should’ve been left in the previous decade and you turned back to your vocabulary list with warm cheeks and added the last few letters to the word you’d abandoned. Then, just as you thought he was about to leave, he took a seat in the last row.

To say you were confused would’ve been an understatement. Bewildered or baffled might’ve been more apt descriptors, but even those words seemed lacking. Deciding not to let Javier Peña distract you from your job any more than he already had that morning, you pulled out your lecture notes and focused on what really mattered: your class and your students. Not the man intently watching your every move.

… . …

Apparently, even visiting lecturers had to attend the weekly Thursday morning faculty meeting.

As Javier sat at the furthest end of the conference room table, only half listening to the department chair drone on about the new graduation requirements for undergraduate sociology majors and minors, he seriously debated the necessity of his presence. Dr. Campbell, as he’d quickly learned the first time that he spoke with the man over the phone a few weeks ago, had a preference for five-dollar words and loved the sound of his own voice. It was amazing he was as long-winded as he was considering the tightness of the obnoxious canary yellow bow tie around his neck. Javier pulled at his own tie, already loose and askew, suddenly feeling constricted by it. Aside from the fact that Campbell’s rundown on the new procedures seemed unnecessary –the regular faculty looked like they’d heard this news a thousand times already – Javier knew he had very little function beyond drawing attention to the school of social sciences. Sure, he technically had to teach a handful of classes this year, which was itself a task proving even more difficult than he’d originally anticipated. But, at the end of the day, he was only there because of his reputation and to lend his name to the university. He only hoped that no one expected much more than that from him.

They’d only be disappointed.

He glanced down the table to where you sat taking occasional notes in between drawing something in the corner of your notebook. He wasn’t sure how, but you’d taken one look at him and figured him out.

 _You don’t deserve to be here_.

Your words from the other night echoed in his mind. While everyone else seemed intent on showering him with empty flattery and undue praise, you saw him for what he really was. And you were right. He definitely didn’t feel like he deserved to teach classes at a prestigious university, to hold any sort of position of prominence or power at an institution like this. He’d retired from the DEA, given up the only job he knew how to do, without any inclination of what he would do next. Accepting this job was nothing short of an unhappy accident that was the result of some sort of second-career-meets-midlife-crisis impasse. Come to think of it, he might’ve been drinking when he called Dr. Campbell and accepted his offer.

“I’ve but one final announcement before I release you all for the day. As is tradition, the planning this year’s student conference will fall to two of our youngest and brightest professors, so it should be no surprise which of you will assume the responsibility.” Campbell finally caught Javier’s attention when he gestured down the length of the table to you. You smiled brightly at the department chair and the rest of your coworkers. “You, my dear, have done a brilliant job in the past and I expect nothing less this year. And I’m sure our newest appointed professor, Dr. Sheffield, will be more than happy to assist and learn from you.”

“Fucking ecstatic,” the man next to him grumbled under his breath. He followed the man’s gaze back to you and watched your smile vanish. Looking back at Sheffield, he noted that he was younger than Javier, although not by much, and sturdily built but soft around the middle. His belt seemed to be cinched one notch too many. Definitely a beer drinker. There was something inherently boorish about the man and although he hadn’t noticed him until that exact moment, Javier decided that he didn’t like him.

“I’ll have Debra set up a meeting for the three of us sometime next week to discuss the issue further,” Campbell added, “And with that said I think we can consider this meeting adjourned. I do believe the Anthropology department has reserved the room for the upcoming hour, so we best leave them to it.”

The other faculty and staff started filing out of the conference room, but evidently Sheffield felt Javier’s stare. He turned to him and offered a hand.

“Javier Peña, I presume.” The way he mispronounced his name was almost embarrassing. “Been looking forward to meeting you all week.”

“What an honor,” Javier drawled, shaking the sweaty proffered hand.

“I’m Andrew Sheffield.”

“I gathered that.”

Seemingly oblivious to his curt responses, Sheffield continued. “Let me know if you ever need anything, man. And, if you’re into it, a couple of buddies of mine from the other departments golf on Sundays. You’re always welcome.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Javier responded, knowing he’d wouldn’t go golfing if his life depended on it, let alone with this guy.

“Cool, and like I said, happy to help.”

“You didn’t seem so happy to help your other colleague a minute ago.” He couldn’t stop himself. He’d been talking to Sheffield for all of a minute and he was already on his last nerve.

“Well, I, uh– I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sheffield stumbled, clearly flustered, “Besides, that’s different. She’s, well, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure,” Javier said, gathering his things and pushing back his chair. He slapped Sheffield’s shoulder, maybe a little harder than strictly necessary. “See you around, bud.”

… . …

By Friday, your hectic first week of the quarter had caught up to you. You were more than a little tired and couldn’t wait for the weekend. Still, you put on a smile as you prepared to start your lecture. You’d made a vow to yourself years ago that you would never become that jaded, joyless professor that made student’s lives miserable. It was for your own benefit as much as theirs.

You knew Peña didn’t have a class on Fridays – the lecture hall had been empty when you arrived that morning – so you were more than a little surprised when he showed up for your class. Just when you thought you weren’t going to have to deal with him that day, he quietly slipped into the back row.

You couldn’t escape the man.

At the same time, as much as you hated to admit it, you’d been looking for him everywhere you went on campus ever since your Wednesday lecture. His actions confounded you – you were sure he hated you after that night in the library, but yet, here he was attending your class again. For what reason? You had no clue.

Deciding it would be best to simply overlook Javier’s presence in your classroom, you started your lecture. However, you quickly discovered he was impossible to ignore. Especially considering the way his dark eyes trailed you, followed your every movement. It didn’t matter that he was sitting in the back of the room. You could feel him watching you.

It should’ve been annoying. Aggravating, even.

But it was something else entirely. Something that ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you. Something you steadfastly refused to name.

Once again, he didn’t wait for you after your lecture, and you weren’t sure why that disappointed you.

… . …

“How was your anniversary?”

“It was actually really fun. We got a sitter and Henry took me to this fancy restaurant downtown he’d been to on business lunches. He’d mentioned wanting to take me before, but I was still surprised that he’d actually made a reservation on his own,” Beverly explained, forgetting all about her chicken salad, “I’m sure you can understand why – you’ve met my husband.”

The two of you were sitting at your usual bench near an especially green spot on campus. The shade of a beautifully overgrown Moreton bay fig tree shielded you from the bright sun and your feet rested against a sprawling root creeping under the bench. “That’s so romantic of him,” you gushed. You sighed dreamily, playing it up for her benefit.

“I know! I don’t think we’ve had a night out like that since our youngest was born. So, what? Two years ago!” She made an exaggerated exasperated expression and you snickered at her. “I didn’t know the man had it in him. But it was very swanky, and they had these little chocolate cakes that, like, oozed more chocolate when you cut into them. Apparently, that’s the new thing but I never get out so I’m behind on the times.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you said as you stabbed at your container of sliced fruit, “I haven’t been on a date in months so I’m right there with you on that one.”

“We gotta fix that.” Bev nudged you playfully.

You made a discouraging face and shook your head. “No, thank you. I’ve got plenty to worry about right now without having to deal with a relationship.”

“Doesn’t have to be a relationship,” she countered in a singsong voice.

“You really can’t be stopped, can you?” you asked with an amused laugh. She shook her head and took another bite of her lunch. “Relationship or not, dating is just too complicated. It’s too distracting.”

“Maybe,” Bev conceded, “But there’s more to life than work, sweetie. As much as I complain about Henry, I really do love the man. And he loves me. That’s something special. I can’t help but want something like that for you too.” You loved Beverly, but sometimes you hated how perceptive she was. Without ever having to voice your own thoughts or desires – sometimes without even admitting them to yourself – she always saw the truth to your words. Work always came first for you. Often at the disadvantage of the rest of your life. When you were quiet for longer than she would’ve liked, she lightened the conversation. “Of course, whoever your person is, would have to be someone as equally spectacular as you, so it might take a while to find them. But we’ll work on it.”

You returned her soft smile with one of your own. “We’ll see. But I’m not sure that person is out there, so don’t hold your breath.” You held out your plastic container. “Cantaloupe?”

“You know that’s my favorite,” she laughed as she skewered a few slices for herself.

… . …

After your lecture and lunch with Bev, you walked home to pick up Sunny before returning to your office. Friday afternoons were usually quiet on campus as students and professors alike preferred not to schedule classes that day of the week, for obvious reasons. You still had quite a bit of work to do before you were free to enjoy the weekend and your dog made for good company. Sunny was small and quiet enough that no one ever noticed her when you snuck her into the office. She was a mild-mannered dog, and that day she alternated between sleeping on your lap and watching birds and students alike from the window while you made a decent dent in the pile of work you had to get through.

She was as well behaved as always, but, unsurprisingly, a couple hours later she started to get restless and you took that as your cue to call it a night.

“Alright, let’s go home, girl,” you said to her as you gathered your things. You piled a few books into your tote, wavering for a moment on one particularly heavy tome you weren’t sure you wanted to haul back to your apartment before you tossed that one in too. You slide your flats back on, having had kicked them off while you worked, and reached for the door. As soon as it was open wide enough for Sunny to fit through, she sprinted out ahead of you.

“Shit!” you hissed taking off after her. She’d _never_ done that before. “Get back here!”

Your eyes practically popped out of your head as she darted into an open office.

You burst into your colleague’s office, intent on dragging her out of there while apologizing profusely. Instead you froze at the sight before you. Sunny was perched on Javier Peña’s lap. To make matters worse, the devious little traitor was excitedly licking his face as he petted her, soothing her fur with a gentle hand. What was even more surprising than her wagging tail, was the goofy grin on his face. It was the kind of unrestrained smile that crinkled his eyes and made him look younger than his years. It was, for lack of a better word, charming.

“I take it this is your dog?” he asked, breaking you from your trance.

“Yeah,” you answered, shaking your head at the scene, “She– She really seems to like you,” you observed, not bothering to hide your confoundment.

“I can tell.” Sunny calmed down, panting happily as Peña scratched behind her perky ears. “At least one of you does,” he said, finally training his brown eyes on you.

“Eh, she likes everyone. Don’t read too much into it,” you said, shrugging off his insinuation. And it was true for the most part. Sunny was a friendly dog, but she did have a strong intuition when it came to people’s sense of character and she always knew who she didn’t like. Even you had to admit she was quite taken with Peña.

“What kind of dog is she?” he asked, turning his attention back to the dog on his lap.

“My best guess is some kind of border collie mix. All I know is Sunny is not a purebred and a bit of a runt, which is probably how she ended up on the street in the first place.”

“Sunny?” he said, cocking his head at you.

You huffed out a small laugh. “I found her on Sunset Boulevard. So, in a moment of sheer genius I called her Sunny as a temporary name before I found her owners or a new family to take her in,” you explained, “Turned out I was her new family and the next thing I knew she was responding to the name. It stuck.”

“She’s sweet. I’ve always liked dogs,” he said, quirking his brow as he looked up at you again, “You can trust their judgement.”

Pursing your lips, you made a noncommittal noise, not wanting to agree despite feeling the same way. With a final wet kiss to his cheek, Sunny hopped down from his lap and trotted over to your side, acting the part of the loyal pet. You glared at her as you quickly attached her lead to her collar, ensuring she wouldn’t cause any more trouble. She’d already provoked the first civil conversation between you and Peña – who knew what else she was capable of. You decided it was best if you took your leave before she caused another miracle. “Have a nice weekend, Peña.”

“You too, _doctora_ ,” he said with a smirk and a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier strike up an unlikely partnership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My babes, I can’t get over the reaction to this story so far. I didn't think anyone besides myself would enjoy it so I’m thrilled you guys are enjoying it! This chapter is a little longer (here I said I was going to keep the word count under 3k per chapter. Smh. I played myself today) but I offer my sincerest apologies with the hopefully enticing promise that things are finally heating between Javi and our lovely reader. 
> 
> **Chapter Warnings** : Canon typical violence associated with a nightmare. Mild language, as usual.

“No, I do _not_ agree with you, Sheffield,” you said tersely to the man across from you. 

You were in a meeting with Dr. Campbell, Debra, and one Andrew Sheffield, about the upcoming conference the department was hosting for sociology students to present their current research. As two of the younger faculty members, responsibility for organizing the conference had fallen to you and Sheffield, despite both of your protests. You had _creative differences_ , to say the least, not to mention the fact that he was probably your least favorite person in the entire world. To be fair, you were at the bottom of his list as well. 

The two of you had met years prior as graduate students while participating in the same panel at a sociology conference at the reputable Harvard University. Sheffield didn’t take it well when you’d inadvertently proved his argument wrong by citing a few key sources he seemed to have overlooked. It wasn’t your intention to call him out in front of a lecture hall full of leading members of your field at one of the world’s most prestigious universities. He was just…wrong. If that wasn’t bad enough, you got the professorship at UCLA over him and he was hired on as an adjunct faculty member, which he also took as a personal attack against him. Of course, he was quite smug about finally being made an assistant professor this year. Your working relationship with him was fraught from the beginning, but neither of you intended to mend it now.

You continued despite his glare. “I think it would be beneficial to our students if we opened applications to other departments as well. We won’t exclude any of the sociology students from participating, of course, but it would increase awareness of the conference and hopefully draw a bigger audience than past years.”

“That’s not how we’ve done this in the past–” Campbell started to protest.

“Yeah, and it sounds like a lot more work for us,” Sheffield grumbled over him.

Debra’s pen scratched hastily against her notepad as she took the meeting minutes. Her eyebrows practically met her hairline as she glanced between you and Sheffield, not even bothering to look at her paper as she waited for the next scathing remark. She always seemed to enjoy the drama between the two of you, but you refused to give into either of them that day.

“Again, the benefit would outweigh the cost,” you tried explaining calmly, “The students would gain experience presenting in front of a larger audience and it would encourage a fresh dialogue with ideas and perspectives from different disciplines. All proposals would still have to fit this year’s conference theme, naturally, but widening the scope of participation would reinvigorate what’s become a rather stale event.”

“I’ll consider it and get back to you with my final decision early next week, but I think you might be onto something, my dear,” Campbell stated, rising from his chair at the head of the table. His moniker for you annoyed just as much as ever, but you took his praise and ran with it. His reaction was surprisingly promising. 

“Thank you, sir,” you replied. 

“In the meantime, how about the two of you finally decide on a theme.” He gave you an uncharacteristic smile as he left the conference room. 

“God, you’re the worst.” Sheffield rolled his eyes at you from across the table, effectively killing your triumphant mood. 

“Don’t worry – the feeling is mutual.” You shot him a sickly-sweet smile. You did your best to ignore Debra’s pen. “Now, as for this year’s theme, I have a few ideas.”

When you finally left the meeting room, now sporting the beginnings of a headache courtesy of one brutish assistant professor, you were met with the sight of a couple of ambitious undergraduates from the _Daily Bruin_ hounding a cornered Javier Peña. Clearly word of his presence on campus had finally spread beyond the school of social sciences and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at the sight. It was a bit ridiculous.

“Can you believe this?” you mumbled to Deb.

“I _know_ ,” she whispered dramatically, “That man is so gorgeous he can even pull off a tan suit. I don’t know how he does it.” 

“What?” you sputtered, “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about the fact that everyone around here treats Peña like some kind of celebrity.”

“Well, you’re the only one who’s complaining.” Her dark eyes trailed over Peña and fanned herself with her notebook.

You made a disgruntled noise and shook your head at her. “I do _not_ see the appeal.”

“Fine by me,” she said around a coy smile as she waved flirtatiously at Peña, drawing his attention to the pair of you. You took that as your cue to bid goodbye to Deb. But as you passed by, Peña’s eyes followed you, meeting your gaze from across the suite.

“Excuse me, boys,” he said as he attempted to get away from the students. 

“So, is that a yes to the interview, Agent Peña?” one of the young men asked eagerly. Probably a freshman. 

He tried to sidestep them again and the thought that he wanted to talk to you crossed your mind. However, you were already annoyed from your meeting with Sheffield and conversation with Deb, and you didn’t have it in you to deal with him as well. So, you slipped down the hallway and into your office, shutting the door behind you and leaving him to the wolves.

You sat at your desk and tried desperately to ignore the headache growing between your temples, needing to focus on the red-inked peer review comments on a paper you’d written that you were hoping to have published in a journal. Despite your best efforts, your mind kept drifting back to that vexing DEA agent. That look he gave you, his eyes practically pleading with you, kept playing in your mind. 

For the first time, you realized he didn’t like the attention. Hated it, even.

“Oh.” You buried your face in your hands. “God damn it.”

Knocking on Peña’s door, you waited for his curt _come in_ before you stepped into his rather spacious, but sparse office. A peach sunset flooded in through the floor length windows, backlighting the man hunched over his desk. His jacket had been discarded since you saw him last and his tie now hung loosely around his neck under his unbuttoned collar.

“Peña?” His pen hovered over a yellow legal pad as he looked at you curiously. “How are the syllabi coming along?” you tried hesitantly. His scoff was enough of an answer. “You know, usually professors prepare that sort of thing before the quarter starts.”

“Coming here was a last-minute decision. One I’m starting to regret,” he sighed. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t ask.”

So, you didn’t. Even though the question burned the tip of your tongue.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” His words were strangled, and your stomach dropped as he confirmed your suspicions. He was new to the university, to academia, and had enormous pressure on him to succeed. A pressure you felt everyday of your life. He wasn’t the arrogant asshole you’d made him out to be. Not entirely. He was struggling and you knew you had to help him, because no one had afforded you the same kindness. And no one else seemed to notice his troubles. Or at least, he didn’t allow others to see them like he let you. You pulled up an extra chair sitting in the corner of his office and took a seat across from him.

“Well, what have you been doing so far?”

“The first day I tried to explain what my courses were going to be about–”

“Difficult, I imagine, when you yourself don’t know.”

“Extremely,” he said with a small laugh and the corner of his mouth twitched upward. And since then I think my classes just turned into story time, or so I’m now realizing,” he trailed off, scratching his jaw. 

“Oh, you were my favorite type of teacher as an undergrad.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His eyes narrowed and even in his confusion he knew that wasn’t good.

“You know the ones who you can get to go on thirty-minute tangents with a few well-timed questions, thus, wasting half the class and pushing back lectures. If it happened enough a good portion of the course material would be dropped by the end of the semester and you didn’t have to do as much work. You just needed that special, unspoken class agreement to keep asking questions to distract the professor. But when it happened, it was magic.”

“These fucking kids are getting away from me already,” Peña mused as he ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. Then he gave you a sly smile. “Wouldn’t have taken you for the type.”

“Exactly. No one ever suspected me,” you said, returning his smirk. You rested your folded arms on the edge of his desk and moved closer. “But more importantly, what can I do to help?”

He sat back in his chair, leaning slightly to one side, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You want to help me? I got the impression you hated me.”

“I still might,” you teased before continuing a bit more seriously, “But I really wish I had someone to do this for me when I first joined the department. Most of the other faculty just...ignored me.” _Still do_ , you thought to yourself.

He eyed you critically and for a moment you felt like you were under investigation. He broke his stare with a short nod, twisting his mouth as he thought over his answer. “Well, I need to finish these syllabi by tomorrow. I figure as long as I give a book list and pick a few exam dates, I can bullshit the rest as I go.”

“That’s– that’s a new approach to teaching.” He glared at you again. “What? I said I would help you. I didn’t say you were going to enjoy it. You could always ask someone else.”

“So far I hate everyone else.”

“I get that,” you nodded, genuinely laughing at his blunt assessment. The so do I went unspoken, but you thought he might’ve heard it anyway. You scanned the list of books he’d collected, already seeing themes for his lecture topics emerge: international crime, counter-narcotics policies, multilateral cooperation, logics of violence. In essence, the politics of the drug wars. 

“I’m surprised you don’t hate me,” you wondered aloud as you stole his pen right out of his hand and made a few notes, “I’ve been pretty horrible to you so far.”

“That’s why I like you.”

“Really?” you asked in disbelief, your pen never stilling as you jotted down a few staple sociology texts for him.

“Yeah. You don’t give a shit about…” He trailed off, but you understood what he didn’t say. That caught your attention and you considered him carefully for a moment, starting to grasp how much you’d misjudged Javier Peña.

“Why did you keep coming to my lectures?” you inquired softly, finally asking the question that had plagued you for the past week and a half.

“You noticed?”

“You know I did. I can feel your eyes on me the entire class. Every class.”

He leaned toward you, his strong forearms resting on his desk, and you noted a new, dangerous glint in his dark eyes. “Did I distract you?” 

Standing abruptly, you ignored the flutter in your stomach and the warmth of your cheeks at his words. 

“Where are you going?” a confused Peña asked, suddenly worried.

“To get us coffee.” And to get some air, you added to yourself. “At this rate, we’re going to be here awhile. You need more than syllabi. Lesson plans, would be helpful.” You started to leave, but stopped at the threshold, looking back at him over your shoulder. “But I don’t want you to get the wrong impression – don’t think this means I suddenly like you, Peña.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, _doctora_.” 

Once again, you decided to let the pet name slide. Pointing a finger at him, you took a guess. “Black?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, then reluctantly added, “With sugar.”

You grinned genuinely at him, probably for the first time. “That’s cute.”

You didn’t miss his matching smile as you turned to leave.

… . …

Javier stood in a dark alleyway, lit only by the blinding headlights of a nearby car. There was a row of young boys, various ages but really all still just kids, kneeling before him. Each had their hands raised behind their heads and the younger ones looked frightened, like young fawns caught in the headlights. An older boy looked at him indignantly, like he wasn’t afraid even though he really should have been. 

Colonel Horacio Carrillo paced the length of the group, lurking around Javier like a shark tracking the scent of blood in the water. He was saying something, but Javier couldn’t hear him. Everything was muffled, slowed down to the point where it was disorienting – almost like losing your sense of direction underwater. 

_Bang!_

A boy’s limp body slumped forward, blood seeping out of the wound in his head. His lifeless eyes stared off into the distance past Javier. 

Dead. The kid was dead.

He tried to look away, to look anywhere besides at the dead boy or the scared faces of the other children. His stare dropped to his hands. 

He was holding a warm gun, his hands covered in innocent blood.

Javier startled himself awake, gripping his bedsheets like a lifeline. He was panting into his pillow, his coiled muscles tensed and covered in a cold sweat. He sat up and willed his heart to calm down. It felt so real. But that wasn’t what happened, not exactly. His unconscious mind did that to him sometimes; twisted real events, something that was already horrifying, into something worse. Trying to reorient himself, he looked around the dark, empty room. 

He was in his apartment. 

In Los Angeles. 

He should’ve felt safe.

Later that day, Javier was slumped against his desk, head resting against his folded arms. He felt like he was hungover, but he hadn’t had a single drink the night before. He’d spent most of the evening working with you again – the third night straight – and by the time the two of you had parted, he’d been too tired to venture out to a bar. And he hadn’t so much as stocked the fridge at his new apartment. However, buying a bottle of whiskey was steadily making its way to the top of his to do list.

As if he wasn’t exhausted enough from this new job, the recurring nightmares weren’t doing anything to help the situation. He just…didn’t know how to stop them. 

“Late night, Peña?”

He lifted his head to find you peeking into his office, wearing a curious look on your face and a rather low-cut blouse. He cleared his throat before answering you. “Something like that,” he answered, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“Well, I’m heading over to the faculty meeting. For whatever reason, they moved it to one of the bigger conference rooms across the social sciences quad. It’s the one with the good chairs though so I’m not complaining.” He almost cracked a smile at that. “You going?”

“Do I have to?” he asked, running a hand over his tired face.

“Probably,” you laughed lightly. “Walk with me. I’ll show you the way.” You weren’t asking. Not that he would’ve protested. Besides, he had no clue where he was going.

The two of you walked quietly across the bustling quad, dodging scurrying students late for class and other staff and faculty chatting idly in between their own lectures and meetings. He had his hands in his pockets while he watched yours shuffle through the notes you took at the previous meeting. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met anyone who worked as tirelessly as you, even when he was at the embassy. And even in an ordinary moment like this, he found that he enjoyed your presence next to him. The two of you were actually on speaking terms now and you were much more open to being in the same space as him without actively hating his presence. Hell, you’d willingly spent the last three evenings helping him create lesson plans and assignments for his classes.

He would even venture to call you a friend. He welcomed your companionship. He needed it.

Although, if he was being honest with himself, he’d like to do something _friends_ didn’t usually do together.

Just as he went to open the heavy glass door of the building you indicated the meeting was in, a tall, dark-haired man stepped out. He smiled at you immediately. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Michael? Hi, how’ve you been?” you asked looking up over your notes. Javier watched the interaction closely. While you were cordial, there was a stiffness to your words.

“Good. I’m surprised I didn’t see you around all summer.”

“I was here. Just kept busy.” Your smile was polite, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. It wasn’t like the real ones you’d graced him with. Looking at him as if asking for help, you placed a light hand on Javier’s arm and drug him into the conversation. “Oh, how rude of me, this is Javier Peña. He just joined the sociology department.”

“So, I’ve heard. Nice to meet you. I’m Michael Chang. Chemistry.”

“Fascinating.” And it was, but not for the obvious reasons. Javier had to admit the man was well-built and not entirely bad looking. For a chemist. He shook his hand without offering up anything else and the conversation fizzled out, just as, he suspected, you hoped it would. You made your excuses for leaving and Javier finally opened the door, letting you step inside before him. He watched the tension fall from your shoulders as you took a deep steadying breath.

“Don’t tell me he’s your ex,” he asked as he stuck a piece of gum in his mouth.

“Unfortunately. Usually I don’t see him around. I don’t know what he’s doing on this side of campus,” you mumbled, glancing up at his sheepishly. “He’s a nice guy.”

“I’m sure,” he said flatly as he stuck a piece of gum in his mouth. “Wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”

“And you know my type?” you challenged. There was a certain spark in your eyes that gave him the smallest shred of hope.

He shrugged as he eyed you with an arched brow. “Maybe I do.”

… . …

Once again, Peña showed up for your Friday lecture. By now you weren’t surprised. You expected it. What did surprise you was his outfit. He was dressed more like himself. At least, that’s what presumed as you noted the new look: a well-pressed baby blue shirt that was either missing a few buttons or he’d just given up on them halfway paired with fitted jeans that hung low on his hips, a little snug in all the right places. You had to force your eyes up as he sauntered up to the podium. 

“What are you doing after class?” He flashed you a dazzling smile and for a moment you wondered if he’d noticed where you’d been looking. Either way, he seemed to be in a much better mood than the day before.

“Faculty meeting.” His brow creased in confusion. “Don’t worry, you’re not forgetting anything. I’m an affiliated professor with the women’s studies department so I go to some of theirs.”

He shook his head at you. “You work too much, _doctora_.”

“Why do you ask?” you said, ignoring his taunt. Your eyes dropped again as he folded his aviators and hung them from his shirt. They pulled his collar open even wider and you couldn’t help but note how broad his chest was. He cleared his throat and your eyes shot back up to meet his. “And what are you even doing here, Peña? Again.”

“Trying to learn.”

“About gender bias in the US judicial system?”

“Yes,” he said seriously. Gesturing to the lecture hall, he added, “And, how to do this.” 

You were dumbstruck, and you were certain the doe-eyed look on your face showed it. He was trying to learn how to lecture by watching _you_. That was easily the best compliment you’d ever received from any of your male colleagues, and your chest tightened with some unnamed emotion. “Really?” you asked breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And I could use some more of your expertise later,” he pleaded leaning over the podium and looking up at you through his lashes. It was a practiced ploy and you were sure it’d worked a thousand times for him in the past. Apparently, it worked on you too. 

“Meet at the library around three?” you suggested, stifling a smile. “I have to pick up some books.”

“Me too.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” you commented with a real smile. You meant it, too. “Now, get out of here or go take a seat or something so I can actually teach.”

“I’ll try not to distract you,” he smirked as he pushed back from the podium.

It was too late for that.

You found Peña later leaning against a bookshelf dedicated to US law, flipping through a book you recognized upon closer inspection. “Is this the book I mentioned offhand today in class?” you asked, gently pulling it away from his face, “You know that’s not even required reading, right?”

He just smiled. “Sounded interesting. Maybe you could suggest a few more books about women’s studies.”

“Why?” you asked, not bothering to hide your skepticism.

“It’s an interest of mine.”

“Women or women’s studies?”

“Academically speaking, of course,” he said through a grin. You didn’t quite believe him.

“I didn’t know you had any academic interests.” You claimed a spot at an open table near the wall of windows and he followed suit, taking the seat across from you.

“They’re new. Now, are you gonna help me or not, _compañera_?”

 _Partner_. That was a new one. You quickly decided that you liked it best.

Javier was surprisingly receptive to the books and journals you suggested. You rattled off a few from memory that focused more on women’s roles in international politics and studies of gendered violence as those topics seemed to pique his interest, and he jotted each one down. You considered his scratchy penmanship as he wrote down another title, and you wondered if there was a reason these books seemed to resonate with him. You didn’t know much about his past other than the fact that he was involved with the DEA’s efforts in Colombia, but you started to speculate about what he saw during his tenure in South America. You studied his face closely, hoping to find some hint as to what made the man before you tick, when you noticed him squinting at his notebook.

“Do you wear glasses? Or contacts, maybe?” you asked without thinking much of it.

Confused, he looked up at you. “No.”

“Should you?” His expression shifted to something much more annoyed. Throwing your hands up in mock surrender, you leaned back against your uncomfortable library chair. “Forget I asked.”

You spent the next couple of hours working across from each other. While you edited your would-be journal article, he was working on a set of weekly assignments for one of his lectures. He asked you questions every now and then and you helped him as best as you could. Really, he was quite mild-mannered about it all. He still seemed so grateful for your help that it warmed your heart a little. And you enjoyed his company. You spent so much time alone that it was nice to have someone else around. Nice to have him around. Even if it was simply to work together in a quiet library. 

Eventually, you had to call it a night.

“I have to get going,” you announced quietly, breaking the peaceful silence. Sunny had been home alone most of the day, and you knew she needed you. Although you weren’t sure where the time went, the sunlight that had been streaming in through the windows earlier was quickly disappearing. 

Peña leaned through the shadows to look at you, lit only by the fluorescent banker’s lamp on the table, the soft glow of which only worked to highlight the curve of his nose and draw a shimmer out of his dark eyes. “Wanna grab a drink, _compañera_?”

It was surprisingly tempting. 

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Tan Suit™](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/post/618405020472311809)
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you attend the annual student-faculty mixer, but sneak off with Javier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I’m so happy that I’ve had quite a few new readers for this story recently. Just in case, I'm changing the rating to **E** because of what's to come in a few short chapters so that no one is surprised. I’ll be very clear when the actual content changes to **E** and will always include a chapter warning so that you can decide what you're comfortable reading. Just know this is a soft, sweet romance, but like...with filth. Unapologetically so. If that’s what you’re here for then we’re good but I wanted to check in because things have been pretty tame so far. Anyway, enjoy chapter five and please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Period-typical sexism, alcohol, mild language.

Usually your Saturday mornings started with an aerobics class of some sort at your favorite place in Westwood, but that weekend your gym friends convinced you to try a spin class instead. You’d been holding off on the latest fitness craze to hit LA for a while now, not quite understanding why you’d want to ride a stationary bike that went nowhere when you had a perfectly good one at home. However, Alejandra worked in sales and could be particularly persuasive when she wanted to be. 

You’d met Tessa and Alejandra at a class when you first moved to LA, and even though all three of you had busy schedules and weren’t really friends outside of gym studios and coffee shops, you enjoyed their company and they kept you committed to your physical health at least one day a week. As it turned out, spin class proved to be an absolutely _grueling_ workout and you practically sweated through your matching tee and bike short set. After class, you walked to a cozy coffee shop nearby with the other girls and you felt the workout every step of the way. However, the promise of an oversized cappuccino to get you through the rest of the day kept you going.

When you returned home that afternoon, Sunny greeted you as soon as you walked through your front door, her tail wagging behind her as she danced around your feet. You discarded your things onto the kitchen counter and dropped to her level for plenty of kisses and belly scratches before she ran off, searching for the nearest toy. She dropped a small stuffed dragon with an extra loud squeaker at your feet and you tossed it across the apartment, repeating the action every time she trotted back to you as you sorted through your mail. Most of it was junk, but an envelope with a New York City returns address marked _Columbia Giving_ caught your attention. 

“Fuck off, you have enough money,” you muttered as you threw the whole stack away.

You set to work cleaning your apartment, having slacked a bit during the first couple weeks of classes, all while continuing your game of fetch with Sunny. The dog had an unlimited store of energy and never seemed to tire. Considering the size of your cozy studio, it didn’t take long before you’d cleared away the clutter and finished a load of laundry.

As difficult as it was sometimes, you always reserved weekends for yourself. After your first few stressful years of graduate school, you learned the hard way that taking time for yourself to relax and recharge was the only way to stay sane. The temptation to work was always there, but you’d learned not to give into it.

You did, however, have to work that night, in a way. The annual student-faculty mixer for the graduate students always took place the second Saturday of the fall quarter and always promised awkward small talk with your colleagues over cheap drinks and bad finger foods. That sounded like work to you. But it was a great opportunity for the students, so you never missed it.

You showered and dressed for the cocktail hour, selecting an emerald wrap dress that you paired with sensible ballet flats. As you spent a little extra time fixing your lipstick, it crossed your mind that one Javier Peña was probably going to be there too. 

You rolled your eyes at your reflection. 

That shouldn’t have mattered and you hated yourself for even thinking it. 

… . …

The so-called party was in full swing by the time you arrived.

Faculty, staff, and students from across the school of social sciences were crowded into one of the larger event halls at the student center, chatting coolly about class schedules, dissertation topics, and research proposals. The usual. You headed straight to the open bar, deciding alcohol could only improve your situation. 

As you waited for your drink, you scanned the crowed room. You found him immediately and smiled to yourself over the poor man’s situation. Peña had managed to trap himself in a conversation with two professors from the geography department that you’d had the same misfortune of speaking with on a number of regrettable occasions. Listening to them drone on monotonously about the latest hot topics in geographic information systems was far from the most exciting thing in the world.

You turned back to the bartender and ordered a second whiskey neat. 

“You look like you need some help,” you murmured as you took your place next to your newest colleague, effectively drawing his attention away from the geographers, “And you strike me as a whiskey man.” He looked relieved to see you and even more relieved at the drink you offered him. 

“Tequila would’ve worked too,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards. He took a long sip, his eyes lingering on yours over the rim of his glass.

“I’ll have to remember that,” you affirmed. Before you could ask him about the fascinating conversation you must’ve interrupted, a cheery voice distracted you. 

“Professor!” 

“Hello, Thomas, it’s so good to see you,” you greeted your former student, “I was surprised when I didn’t see your name on any of my rosters last week.”

“Don’t even remind me – I’m so upset that I can’t take your seminar this quarter,” he explained, shaking his head, “I have an internship all day on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” 

“Well, that’s exciting! And if it’s any consolation, I’m running a colloquium next quarter that you might be interested in. I hope you can make that one.”

“Me too! You’re my favorite professor and this quarter is just not going to be the same without one of your classes.” 

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” you said sincerely. “How’s your hunt for a dissertation topic going? I know you were struggling last spring.”

… . …

As quickly as you’d appeared beside him, Javier lost you to several students who quickly gathered around you, each one singing your praises. It struck him that it wasn’t empty flattery; they weren’t doing this to impress you or win any favors. They just genuinely liked you, and you seemed to remember every project, paper, or presentation they’d ever told you about. He’d gotten a personal look at your teaching style over the past couple of weeks and he knew each compliment was well-deserved.

He’d stepped aside, but hovered close enough to enjoy the conversation. And to admire the rather figure flattering dress you’d donned that night. The dark green fabric clung to you nicely, eventuating each dip and curve of–

“Hey, Peña!” a boisterous voice called. Sheffield and a much shorter man sidled up next to him. “How’s it going, man? This is Lucas Moreno, political science.”

“Nice to meet you. Big fan.”

He dropped the man’s proffered hand. “Really?” Javier mocked. Moreno didn’t seem to notice.

“He’s a good friend,” Sheffield vouched on his behalf. 

“I’m sure he is,” was his only response as he looked for a way out of the conversation. He glanced back at where you were still surrounded by your adoring students.

“All the female students are crazy about her,” Sheffield remarked. Javier absentmindedly thought it was an odd statement, especially considering the composition of the group around you. 

“That’s because of all her feminist bullshit,” Moreno added. That caught his attention, and his eyes flicked back to the pair of men. “She’d be much less of a bitch if she’d let that go.”

“Probably just needs a good fuck,” Sheffield said into his glass.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Javier mumbled under his breath.

“What’s your problem, Peña?”

“Right now? You.” He narrowed his eyes at Sheffield. “That’s not how you talk about a colleague. Just makes you both assholes.”

Before Sheffield or the other guy could come up with any sort of response, Javier walked away. He headed to the bar, initially intending only to refill his drink. As he stood there waiting, his anger mounted, and he swiped a full bottle from behind the countertop when the bartender turned his back to him. He then waited impatiently for a pause in your conversation, before politely albeit suddenly pulling you away, earning a bewildered look from you.

He wasn’t sure why he did it – he was just moving on instinct. 

… . …

The night was warm as summer lingered on the quiet campus, empty at the late hour. 

For whatever reason, you’d allowed Peña to drag you out of the mixer, and now found yourself outside of Royce Hall, sitting across from each other on the low wall in between those infamous arches. The cold marble column wasn’t particularly comfortable against your back, but you didn’t mind as you tucked your legs under yourself and sipped at your drink, savoring it and the tranquil moment.

You studied your colleague as he pulled at his perpetually loose necktie, a drink in his other hand. He’d seemed tense ever since you left the cocktail hour, but you didn’t question it. You were quickly learning that under the surface he was always a little dour, if not melancholic. His posture was casual, one leg hanging off the wall, the other pulled to his chest, an arm resting against his knee, but as you looked closer you also noticed the crease between his brows and the far-off look in his dark eyes. The single lantern cast a soft glow against his warm skin, and you wondered, not for the first time, how your path had crossed with this curious man. 

He caught you staring but didn’t offer his usual smirk. 

“I knew I’d get you to have a drink with me.” There was something missing in his tone, something sad in his eyes.

“This hardly counts, Peña. This is a school function,” you responded, looking for your usual repertoire. He shifted the conversation abruptly instead.

“What’s someone as smart and talented as you doing fucking around here? They don’t appreciate you.” He gestured back the way you came.

That surprised you, but you simply shrugged. “It’s a long, boring story.” 

“I’ve got time.” He tipped his stolen glass towards you before he took a drink. 

You wondered why he wanted to know anything about you. Why he was suddenly curious about your academic history and career choices. His quick-witted banter and mindless flirting were one thing, but his interest in your personal life was something new entirely. After a moment of contemplation, you answered him anyway. 

“Believe it or not this was one of my better options. I ruled out a lot of other schools because I needed to get away from that special brand of elitism that permeates east coast campuses. I suppose this isn’t much better but it’s certainly an improvement.” You sighed and ran a finger along the rim of your glass. 

“I bounced around the Ivy League as a student. Princeton, Yale, Columbia ¬¬– in that order. While most were fully co-ed by the late sixties, it was still rough to be a woman on any of those campuses at the time. Undoubtably still is.” You looked across at him, amazed to see he was still listening attentively as you rambled, so you continued. “I stuck it out through my doctorate. I kept thinking if I worked harder than everyone else, if I went to the best schools, if I just got one more degree, they’d start respecting me. That they’d see my worth. But nothing ever changed.” 

Peña held out the bottle in a silent offering and you allowed him to refill your glass. 

“The good news is I fell in love with teaching and research during my PhD program. That I can do on my own, you know? And I’m good at it. I actually had offers to stay back east, but I decided I’d rather work at a state school like this than sell my soul back to the Ivy League. LA has been a nice change of pace for me.” You paused to look out across the campus. “I like it here. It’s not perfect but I think they appreciate me sometimes.”

“Your students love you.”

“Yeah, and I love them,” you said around a smile. They made all of the frustrating parts of your job worthwhile. When you looked back to him, he granted you a soft smile of his own. “You never told me how you ended up here.”

His smile faded and he sighed deeply. You watched his eyes trail the curve of the arch you were sitting under, looking anywhere but at you. “I was getting all kinds of offers after I left the DEA, but I went back home and–” He leaned his head back against the brick and gnashed his teeth together; it was a habit of his that always told you when he was frustrated. He seemed to be carefully considering his next words, constructing the right answer. “All I knew was that I had to get the fuck out of Laredo and fast. This seemed like as good a place as any. Didn’t put too much thought into it.”

There was more to that story, and it was important. You were sure of it. The topic seemed to upset him, and it made some strange part of you wanted to reach out to him, brush the errant lock of hair that had fallen out of place off his forehead in hope that he would look at you again. That thought startled you, so you gave a half-hearted attempt at humor, deciding a distraction might be best for both of you. “That should be your motto.”

“Be nice,” he chastised, “You’re the only friend I’ve got here, _compañera_.” 

“We’re friends, Peña?” you asked despite already knowing the answer.

His gaze finally fell to meet yours. “Call me Javier.”

… . …

“You haven’t been to the beach yet?”

“No, not yet.” He laughed as you tried but failed to walk along a seam in the sidewalk concrete. You made a second attempt, reaching out to steady yourself with a hand on his elbow. 

“You live in LA now. You _have_ to go to the beach.” 

“I’ve been a little busy.” 

The two of you had polished off the rest of the whiskey, and even Javier had to admit he was feeling the liquor’s effects. Alcohol, apparently, made you much more talkative than usual. And maybe a bit more amicable towards him. He’d insisted on walking you home and was surprised when you relented on the first attempt.

“Do you like beaches?”

“I guess.” Your grip on him tightened as you stumbled. “You okay?”

You nodded enthusiastically, humming your response. “I bet they have nice beaches in Colombia.”

“Yeah. Never really had the time to go.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry,” you said quietly, stopping to face him. That your hand never left him didn’t go unnoticed. “Well, you have to go here. California has beautiful beaches. The best!” you exclaimed, smiling lazily at him. “I always dream of just taking off and driving up the coast. Leaving everything behind for a while and following PCH all the way to San Francisco, stopping at all the beaches and little coastal towns along the way. It sounds _so nice_ ,” you emphasized with a wistful exhalation. “Don’t you think?”

You looked up at him expectantly, your bright eyes reflecting the streetlamp and passing headlights with a twinkle, and your pretty lips parted. You didn’t normally wear lipstick, but the color suited you and he decided that he liked this look too.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “It does.” You seemed to like his answer and an impish look fell across your face.

“I _hated_ you when I first heard you were coming here,” you slurred at him, “Did you know that?”

“I got that impression.”

“I never apologized for that–” you hiccupped, and he found the unbridled sound much too endearing, “For hating you.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” he said, shaking his head at you.

“I was just so mad. I hated you for things that weren’t even your fault. And I hated you because you had no idea what you were doing and everyone else fucking loved you and it drove me crazy.” You rolled your eyes dramatically, but when you looked at him again, your expression softened. 

“Do you like me now?” he tried, probably testing his luck.

You considered his question for a moment, tapping a finger against your painted lips thoughtfully before answering, “I don’t _not_ like you.”

A light laugh escaped him. “At least I’m making progress.” 

You grinned at him. It was one of your genuine smiles made all the better because it was directed at him, and his chest constricted. For the briefest of moments, Javier found himself contemplating kissing you. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to know exactly what your lips felt like pressed against his, sure that the soft slide of your mouth under his would be as pleasant as he imagined. All he had to do was close the small gap between the two of you. 

But as enticing as the idea was, he couldn’t act on his desire. If anything, that night had proven to him that you needed someone in the department who was on your side. You needed his friendship just as much as he needed yours, even if you weren’t willing to admit that yet. You looked away from him, saving him from his own thoughts, and started rooting around in your small purse. Eventually pulling out a keyring, you pointed over your shoulder at the building behind you. “This is me.”

“You live here?” he asked, not bothering to hide his concern.

“Damn,” you scowled at him, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but this is LA and academia doesn’t pay very well.”

“No, it’s just–” he stumbled, “This doesn’t seem like the safest street.”

“It’s only scary looking at night. So, half of the time,” you reasoned, waving him off.

“Noted.”

You walked over to the front door and unlocked it, only dropping your keys once in the process, which was actually impressive, all things considered. You continued talking to him over your shoulder the entire time. “I do appreciate the thought, but it’s not _that_ bad. Are you okay to get home?”

“Don’t worry about me, _hermosa_.” He grimaced when the endearment slipped out uninhibited. You didn’t seem to notice, but if you did, he figured you wouldn’t remember in the morning. 

“If you get to worry about me, then I get to do the same. We’re friends now, after all.” You stepped inside your building, pausing to turn back to him for a moment. “Goodnight, Javier,” you said with one last smile. You closed the door behind you, leaving him alone on the quiet street with his hands in his trouser pockets.

“Goodnight, _compañera_ ,” he murmured to the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Inspo  
> [Reader's Emerald Wrap Dress](https://www.modcloth.com/shop/dresses/say-yes-to-timeless-wrap-dress-in-clover/154564.html)  
> [Royce Hall at UCLA](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royce_Hall#/media/File:2019_UCLA_Royce_Hall_2.jpg) \+ [Those Arches™](https://twitter.com/ucla/status/932337719136616449)
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier grow closer until you repeat an old mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still so overwhelmed by the positive responses to this story. And I just love hearing from you – thank you to everyone who left a comment on the last chapter! 
> 
> Okay, so, things get a little messy in this chapter, but our lovely reader, as smart as she is, needed her ah-ha moment. Have faith in the narrative, stick with me. I _mostly_ know what I’m doing. I’ll fix it. I promise.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – sexual content. Angst and pining intensifies. Alcohol and mild language.

Things between you and Javier carried on much the same for the rest of September and into October.

Most days you’d meet in his office – never yours because it was far inferior and you enjoyed his view of the campus – or the library – when you both needed to get away from your soul crushing department – and you’d work peacefully together. He’d ask you questions occasionally, but mostly you’d banter back and forth in between reading journal articles or grading student quizzes and assignments. Sometimes you’d bring Sunny along with you. While she also seemed to prefer the floor to ceiling window in his office, her favorite spot seemed to be his lap. You’d decided she’d been right from the beginning: Javier Peña was a good man. Even if he didn’t always seem to see it in himself.

… . …

“Bev, I have a confession to make,” you declared at lunch one day early in the quarter. There were strong winds that day, so you were eating at her desk together in her cubicle. 

“Excuse me?” she exclaimed. “And you didn’t lead with that? You really let me ramble on about daycare drama for a half hour?”

You shrugged.

“Do I need to get a fucking partition?” she prompted, waving her hand in between the two of you, “Or would you like to stand on the other side of this flimsily little wall?”

“No,” you laughed. “I just– I– I think I’ve befriended Javier Peña.”

Bev made a little triumphant fist in front of her chest. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something like that,” she beamed. “Although I was hoping for a little more than _befriended_ ,” she added with a dramatic eye roll.

“Shut up. It’s not like that. We’re colleagues, friends at best,” you clarified. “But can you believe he’s now the nicest person in my department?”

“I’ve met your co-workers, babe. It wouldn’t take much.” She tore off a piece of crusty bread and dipped it into her thermos of soup. She popped it into her mouth before scrunching up her face in thought. A mischievous grin slowly broke out as she concluded, “That explains why you’ve been so cheery lately.”

… . …

Despite your newfound friendship, after the night of the student mixer, when you’d split a bottle of whiskey and shared way too much of your personal life with him, you’d also decided that you needed to draw some sort of boundary between the two of you. You were colleagues. You worked in the same department and his office was no more than five doors from yours. Things needed to stay professional.

So, you settled into an easy, working companionship.

Granted, even that was more than you ever bargained for with Javier.

There were nights that ended with him asking you to grab a drink, but you always politely declined. You weren’t quite sure if you wanted to go down that road, still unsure where he was trying to lead you. It was clear that he could have any woman he wanted, and you weren’t sure what he wanted out of you. As always, you decided to err on the side of caution and protect your friendship. And your heart. Though you refused to admit even to yourself that he might’ve had any sort of hold on it.

… . …

Things changed on a busy Friday in mid-October when a rhythmic knock at your office door drew your attention away from the project proposals you were grading for your graduate seminar. Debra poked her head in and waved an envelope at you.

“For you, doc,” she said as she dropped it onto your desk.

You ripped open the letter, quickly scanning its contents before jumping out of your chair.

“The _American Sociological Review_ is going to publish my article!” you announced, bounding into Javier’s office.

He looked up from his work and a grin matching yours broke out across his face. “I’m assuming that’s big time for you academics.”

“Major league big,” you quipped, unable to stop smiling, “It’s one of the top journals.”

“We should celebrate.” He flipped his binder shut and tossed it aside before moving around his desk to stand in front of you. If it had been anyone else, it would’ve been much too close. “Drinks on me.”

You weren’t sure if it was your excitement over your article or the intoxicating scent of his cologne clouding your judgement, but his grin when you agreed made you think it was the right decision. “But” you started to amend seriously, “If you take me to that restaurant on campus, the one with the little bar, I swear I’ll leave.”

“Fuck– Why would I take you there?” he asked, brows drawn over his eyes.

“Believe it or not some of these guys think that’s a night on the town.”

“That’s rich coming from a woman who usually spends her Friday nights at the library.”

“Guess what, _professor_? You do too,” you said, tapping his chest, just below the first fastened button. He was wearing another one of those shirts with three too many buttons undone.

He couldn’t argue with you on that one, so he just beamed at you for a drawn-out moment. Until his face suddenly fell. “Wait. Does that mean one of these assholes really took you on a date to the campus bar?”

“I never said it was a date.” He shot you a look. You wondered briefly if that was how he got people to talk during interrogations or if it only worked on you. Unfortunately, it always seemed to work on you. “Yes,” you muttered defeatedly.

“ _Lo siento, compañera_.” He shook his head as he slipped his jacket and you used the stolen moment to admire the rest of his outfit. His shirt was a rich navy blue that paired nicely with the black leather. He always dressed casually on Fridays. Less like Professor Peña and more like Javier, or so you mused to yourself. Either way, it was a good look. “Was it the biology guy?” he smirked.

“Chemistry guy,” you corrected, “But, yes.”

“You could do better.” He stepped close enough that you had to lean back just to look at him properly. .

“Let me know if you think of anyone,” you said, brushing off his insinuation. He just kept smiling at you; you knew he meant himself. He always did. You were almost certain of it.

Javier took you to a pub a few blocks from campus that you’d noticed before but had never visited. It was cozy and intimate without being stuffy or pretentious. The kind of bar you assumed someone like him would frequent. As you took a seat on a wooden barstool, he ordered for the both of you.

“That’s top-shelf tequila,” you commented.

“We’re celebrating,” he said as he threw an arm across the back of your chair. He looked so happy and relaxed that it eased any worries you might’ve had about spending time with him outside of work. You felt yourself loosen up, determined to enjoy the moment. When the bartender produced your drinks, Javier offered a soft _salud_ and you clinked your glasses together before letting the golden liquor slide down your throat.

Even though you were out on the pretense of commemorating an academic success, that night the two of you talked about everything but work. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a personal conversation with anyone you worked with that wasn’t about research funding or upcoming conferences. But, once again, it was different with Javier. Talking to him felt natural. He asked you questions about where you grew up and told you a little bit about Texas. After the third round you even coaxed a few fond memories about his time in Colombia out of him. Nothing about his work, nothing serious, just anecdotes about his partner and the things he actually liked about living in South America.

“There’s a place just down the street from the embassy that had the best arepas in Colombia. Steve always swore it was this restaurant in Medellin, but you can’t trust that _gringos_ taste.”

“I don’t know this Steve of yours, but I think I have to take your opinion over his.” The two of you laughed easily, no doubt aided by the alcohol. “That reminds me of this little Venezuelan restaurant in Pasadena that has amazing arepas. I don’t know if it would compare to your favorite place in Colombia, but I think you might like it.”

His face actually lit up at that. “We should go.”

You tried to ignore the way his hand shifted from your chair to your shoulder, along with the sensation of his thumb drawing idle circles against the fabric of your blouse. You took another sip of your drink, hoping the tequila would cool you down but found the burn of the alcohol only added to the flame.

After you left the bar, he walked you to your apartment, as was becoming his custom any time your joint work sessions ran late into the night. You weren’t sure why he insisted on walking with you anytime the sun had so much as dipped past the horizon, but you didn’t mind. And that night you welcomed any excuse to spend a few extra minutes with him as he regaled you with a tale about how he was almost kicked out of Quantico for sneaking out past curfew.

“Was there a woman involved?” you asked with a raised brow.

“Of course,” he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You couldn’t help but laugh at his candor. It seemed like a classic Javier Peña story and you hung onto his every word.

Long after you parted ways on the stoop of your building, your skin burned where he’d placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you home.

… . …

“Do you like it when I touch you like this, _compañera_?”

“Yes,” you sighed at his gentle caress, “Please– Please. Don’t stop.”

Javier had you sprawled out on the library table you so often frequented together, the notebooks and papers you’d been working on had all been pushed carelessly aside, littering the carpeted floor. His hands roamed your naked body, squeezing and feeling everything that you offered to him and you squirmed under his touch.

Wanting so much more, your legs spread for him on their own volition. His hand dipped lower, teasing your wet folds, and you let out a lusty moan.

“Shh, stay quiet, _compañera_ ,” he whispered, his moustache tickling the shell of your ear, “We don’t want anyone to hear you.” You whimpered a little quieter and your eyes fell shut as one of his fingers sank into you. You knew his hands would feel good on you, in you; his fingers always distracted you when you watched him write, flip through pages, or point out lines in a text. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it would feel like if he touched you before. “That’s a good girl,” he praised as he trailed kisses across your chest, his mouth moving lower and lower.

You made a frustrated noise when your eyes fluttered open and you noticed he was still fully dressed, wearing that stupid red shirt you liked so much. You pulled at his collar, annoyed when his clothes didn’t just magically disappear.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice low in his chest.

“ _You_.”

You shot up in bed, gasping for breath and startling Sunny, who’d been sleeping peacefully unaware of your obscene dream.

“Oh, God,” you groaned as you fell back frustratedly against your pillows, an arm thrown across your face. “No, no, no, no. That did not just happen,” you murmured to yourself as you rubbed at your eyes in an attempt to banish images of Javier from your mind. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought of him in that way – your subconscious had supplied a few indecent thoughts about the man over the past few weeks – but it had never been quite so... vivid. You tried to ignore the warmth pooled in your center. Tried to tell yourself it had nothing to do with your colleague, your _friend_.

That morning you happily took a cold shower, not even caring that your landlord had yet to fix your water heater.

… . …

“So apparently the Registrar’s office is looking for someone to head a new project and they reached out to me, can you believe it? I don’t know much about it yet, but it would be a lot more responsibility for _a lot_ more pay. I’m definitely going to interview.”

“Of course, I believe it. You kick ass at your job.”

It was a warm fall day and Beverly was basking in the sun as much as the attention as she relayed her story. You were happy for her, you really were, and you told her as much. No one worked harder for the students than Bev, the unsung hero of student services, and she deserved the opportunity to do more.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? You seem a little down.” She held out her box of Lemonheads and you let her pour a few of the sour candies into your hand.

“Did you steal candy from your kids again?”

“Yes, I did,” she replied, unashamed. “Halloween’s coming up. They’ll restock themselves.” You laughed at her refreshing take on motherhood. “Now, what’s up?”

“Do you know anyone you could set me up with?” You pushed out the words, hating the way they tasted on your lips. “Any one single, really.”

“That’s an interesting jump in the conversation.” Her brows shot to her hairline. “Especially considering how many times you’ve explicitly told me not to set you up on blind dates.” You shrugged and popped a few pieces of candy into your mouth. “What about Javier?”

“Our relationship is strictly professional,” you asserted defensively.

Bev barked out a laugh that seemed to surprise even her, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing further. Something in her expression changed and she continued more seriously. “Oh, do you really think that? Honey, you spend most of your free time with that man. Sure, you’re working but that’s not what it really is, is it?”

“Javier and I are friends. That’s all,” you protested hollowly, “And it– It needs to stay that way.” Diverting the subject away from him, you tried again. “I’m just stressed. Midterms are getting to me and I need a distraction from… everything.”

“Little stress relief?” she suggested, playfully bumping her shoulder against yours. “About time.”

“Yeah. It’s been a while.”

… . …

Beverly wasn’t able to help you with your little problem, at least not fast enough for your taste. Not when you had an itch you needed to scratch as quickly as possible. Which was how you ended up on a date with your ex-boyfriend, of all people.

You’d happened upon Michael shortly after your conversation with Bev while wandering idly across the campus as you avoided returning to your department’s building. And you accepted his offer for dinner despite knowing exactly why the two of you would never work out.

Michael really was a decent guy. But he spent the entire meal, including a shared dessert you only took a bite of to be polite, telling you about molecules or electrons or some shit that you just couldn’t pretend to care about. It wasn’t that his work wasn’t interesting – he was a leading researcher in some important sub-field of a sub-field, surely what he had to say was important – but it was all he talked about. And every time he asked you a question, it was about your work, and you hated him for it. As much as you enjoyed your research, there was more to you than that. The dinner was a stark reminder of why you never socialized with, much less dated, other academics. You’d instituted that rule after you broke up with Michael. And yet, there you were.

To make matters worse, your mind kept drifting in and out of the conversation, wandering back to the evening you spent with Javier. There was something about him – his charm, his wit, something that you couldn’t quite name but was entirely _him_ – that made every interaction between the two of you feel so organic. Apparently, it wasn’t an easily replicated dynamic.

As these thoughts swirled around your head, you decided to take Michael back to your place anyway.

Sunny, who always loved everyone and even greeted strangers excitedly, acted indifferent to him. As if even she remembered he was boring and was displeased with your life choices.

And you let him fuck you because you’d somehow convinced yourself that it would solve all your problems. Or, more accurately, take your mind off of them for a little while.

You were an intelligent woman, but you’d never been so spectacularly wrong before.

You’d been living in a constant state of low-grade arousal for _weeks_. It shouldn’t have taken much but being with him did absolutely nothing to satiate your burning desire.

Instead, your brain flooded itself with images of Javier taking you like that, bent over the sturdy desk in his office as he fucked you senseless, filing you like no one else ever had. You buried your face in your sheets and cried out in frustration, angry tears smearing against the cotton.

In that moment, you finally admitted to yourself how desperately you wanted Javier.

 _Only_ Javier.

You didn’t even bother to try to finish – you didn’t want to, not with him – before hastily ushering Michael unceremoniously out of your apartment.

“Really?” he said as you pushed him towards the door, “Before you always liked to, you know, lay together after.”

“I’m tired. And I have an early morning class.” It wasn’t a lie; it just wasn’t the truth.

“Me too,” he chuckled, but finally acquiesced to your request. He pecked your lips on his way out and you suddenly wished you hadn’t placated him. It wasn’t his fault, not really.

As soon as the door shut, you ran to your bathroom and showered, scrubbing every inch of your skin to rid yourself of your mistake. Afterwards, you stripped every piece of linen off the bed, leaving it all in a messy heap on the floor for you to deal with in the morning. You weren’t getting back into bed until those sheets were thoroughly washed. Or maybe burned and replaced entirely.

You slept on your couch that night with Sunny curled up in the crook of your legs.

… . …

Wednesday morning you waited outside of your lecture hall feeling a little too hungover from a night out with Bev to be awake let alone about to teach a class. You’d steadfastly refused to talk about your problems, so she suggested the two of you drink them away and now you were paying for it. You had your black Ray Bans on despite the overcast marine layer and it was still much too bright out. The last time you went to a lecture hungover you’d been an undergraduate and now you were the one who had to teach the class. You should’ve just called in sick and cancelled. Your students would’ve undoubtedly welcomed a day off. Who wouldn’t? But as a stream of students exited the hall, you knew it was too late. The last students were followed shortly by Javier. He was walking towards you, a lazy smile pulling at his lips, when you felt an unwanted hand on the small of your back.

“I had a nice time the other night,” Michael said, grinning warmly at you. You really should’ve ripped the band-aid off when you had the chance. “Call me sometime.”

Grimacing, your eyes fell shut behind your sunglasses, so you wouldn’t have to watch him walk away. You wanted nothing more than to pretend that interaction, however brief, had never happened. Well, that and for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. When you opened them again, Javier was scowling at you.

“Isn’t that the physicist?”

“Chemist,” you corrected weakly.

“Whatever.”

He haphazardly threw on his tinted aviators and brushed past you. You watched him walk away until he disappeared from sight, not caring in the slightest that you were late to your own lecture.

… . …

Wednesday night, Javier was staring at the bottom of his third or fourth empty beer bottle at the pub around the corner from campus. He’d lost track of the number. Not that he cared.

He wasn’t in the mood to care about much of anything. As much as he hated to admit it, it had hurt to see you with that chemist. Of all people, it had to be him? Javier had spent the better part of the last month telling himself that being your friend and colleague was enough for him. That he couldn’t act on what he was feeling no matter how badly he wanted you in his bed – not unless he was positive you wanted him too. Still, the two of you spent significant portions of your time together and had grown close. He couldn’t remember the last time he waited this long for one woman. Despite himself, he’d held out hope.

Apparently, he’d been wrong to do so.

He really wasn’t your type.

He motioned to the bartender, silently asking for a fresh round. The young woman dressed entirely in black with an array of tattoos covering every inch of her left arm pried the cap off another bottle before placing it on the wooden bar top in front of him.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” she inquired, speaking to him for the first time that night. “I keep expecting her to show up.”

“What?”

“The woman you were with a few days ago – where is she?”

“She’s just a colleague,” he grumbled as he took a long pull of his drink.

“Wait, really?” she asked incredulously. When he didn’t respond, she continued anyway. “That’s a shame.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked shortly.

Shrugging, she threw her towel over her shoulder before leaning against the counter. “I’m in here five, sometimes six nights a week. I’ve seen a shit ton of people pass through this place. Enough to pick up a thing or two about humans and their relationships,” she mused, her teeth biting at the ring around her lip. “I– I don’t know. I just noticed you two the other night. There was something about you guys that stood out to me. Seemed like a special connection.”

“What are you a psychology major?”

“Minor, actually. I’m majoring in neuroscience,” she said proudly. “But I swear I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you or anything. It was just an observation.” He made an ambiguous noise in response as he picked at the label of his bottle, damp with condensation. “You were also a lot less–” she waved a hand in his general direction “–whatever _this_ is when you were with her.”

“I’m guessing you don’t earn much in tips,” he retorted.

“You’d be surprised.” She leaned a little closer before pointing down the bar. “The brunette in the red dress with the nice rack has been trying to catch your eye all night, but you’ve been too busy sulking to notice. I heard her talking about you with her friends.”

Javier finished the last of his drink before tossing a decent-sized stack of cash on the counter. “I see your value now.”

“And that’s how I pay my tuition,” she said as her nimble fingers shuffled through the bills.

The brunette had told Javier her name at some point, but it definitely wasn’t the one that slipped out of his mouth when he came. By some stroke of luck, she didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Can I see you again?” she asked, running her hands down his bare chest to the waistband of his jeans, trying to tug him closer.

“No.” He handed her a wad of bills, mumbled something about having called her a cab, and then slammed the door. He fished out a fresh pack of cigarettes from the back of one of his kitchen drawers – the pack he told himself he would never need – and placed one between his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Translations  
> Lo siento: I'm sorry
> 
> ... . ...
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you accept your feelings and attempt to mend your friendship with Javier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated posting this tonight, but I decided that there might be someone out there who needed a little distraction and cheering up. If this makes one person happy then that’s all that matters to me. That’s what this story is for, after all. So, please note the rating change and _enjoy the fun_. I can’t wait to hear what you all think!!
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW - explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering. Mild language.

You went about the next few days like nothing was out of the ordinary. Really, there wasn’t anything different about your life. It was like any other week you’d had in the last six years of teaching at UCLA. You lectured, attended faculty meetings, graded papers and the last of the midterms, ate your lunches with Bev, went to an aerobics class Saturday morning, and, as always, played with Sunny when you got home every night. But it felt like something was missing.

Because the truth was you missed joint work sessions at the library and office chats with Javier. You missed the five-minute conversations in between your lectures and his stupid smirk whenever you passed him on campus. You missed the way he insisted on walking you the couple blocks to your apartment whenever it was dark out after late nights together – as the days grew shorter, it’d started happening more frequently and you’d grown used to it. Used to him.

 _You missed him_.

He was ignoring you, and you suspected it had to do something with seeing you with Michael. It had been a week – seven whole days – since he’d last spoken to you outside your shared lecture hall.

Beverly was over at your apartment with her youngest, an adorable little toddler named Emma who was curled up on the couch taking a nap with Sunny. She’d stopped by after dropping her other two off at an after-school playdate, claiming she needed an hour of adult conversation without having to discuss the Rugrats, so you’d finally filled her in on everything that happened the week before, including your realization that you were falling for Javier. Or, at least, that you were hopelessly attracted to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?” she asked. 

“Because I was in complete and utter denial,” you responded truthfully. She took a long sip of her drink, rolling her eyes at you over her mug. “I saw that.”

“Wasn’t trying to hide it, babe,” she retorted. You narrowed your eyes at her while you sorted through a basket of freshly laundered bed linens. “So let me guess. You bought new sheets because of your terrible life choices as of late?”

“It was time for a new set,” you said as you pulled out your new fitted sheet out of the basket, “That just… sped things up a bit.”

Bev shook her head at you as she laughed. “What did we learn from our little mistake?”

“Sex with an ex is never a good idea,” you supplied.

“And?” she prompted, clearly dissatisfied with your answer.

“And I–” you started, struggling to find the right words, “I need to stop running from my feelings.” 

“That’s a start,” she conceded. “What are you going to do about Javier?”

You turned away from her and spread the sheet out over your mattress, securing the top corners first. “I don’t know,” you sighed, “He won’t even look at me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he saw Michael flirting with me. And it definitely looked like something had happened.”

“He’s jealous,” she cooed.

“It was like he was disappointed,” you corrected. “Hell, I was disappointed in me. But he– He’s moved on.”

“Explain,” she demanded with a frustrated groan. You heard her head hit the back of the couch and you didn’t even have to look at her to know she was pinching the bridge of her nose like she always did when she was annoyed with you.

“He showed up to the last faculty meeting with fucking bruises on his neck.” You said through gritted teeth as you attempted to secure the last corner of the sheet. No matter how hard you pulled you couldn’t get to fit over the last few inches of the bed. “Stupid little purple love bites,” you ground out.

“He didn’t even try to cover it?” She sounded scandalized for you. “Like, it was that obvious?”

“No. Not really.” You lost your hold and the sheet snapped off, undoing the other bottom corner in the process. You ran a hand over your face as you let out a deep breath. “It was barely noticeable. Just sort of peaking over his collar. I was…well, I might’ve been staring at his neck again.”

“What do you mean _again_?” she questioned with a laugh.

You shrugged and peaked over your shoulder at her, feigning your best look of innocence. “It’s a nice neck. It looks very kissable.”

“Apparently, it is” Bev muttered under her breath.

“Don’t remind me,” you scowled. You yanked on the sheet again, not really expecting anything new to happen.

“You never know when to admit defeat, do you?” You knew she was talking about more than the bedsheets. She set her mug of coffee on the small end table next to her and moved to help you. Together, the two of you finally fixed the last corner. 

“I’ll face defeat this time,” you grumbled, flopping down on the half-made bed. “I’m absolutely fucked.”

“No, you’re not.” Bev lied next to you with a little more grace. “You are a determined, ambitious woman who never lets anything stop her from getting what she wants. So decide what you want and go get it.”

“I want him,” you admitted quietly, staring at the ceiling above you, “But I’m scared.”

“Why?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

You turned onto your side to face her. “It’s never felt like this before.”

“That’s good!” she assured you, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “All of your past relationships sucked.”

“It’s not just that. There’s still the fact that he’s my co-worker. Michael was one thing – he’s in a different department across campus. Even when we dated, I hardly saw him _on_ campus. Javier works right down the hall from me. Literally five offices over. God forbid I ruin what reputation I do have in my department,” you rambled, trying to make her understand why pursuing him would be a bad idea, “Besides he’s not even talking to me and I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who does relationships and–”

“I’m going to stop you right there because you’re overthinking things again and you’re going to drive me insane.” She said it firmly but there was still that touch of softness to it that reminded you how much your friend cared for you. “First of all, why should you be the only one on that god damn campus who doesn’t get to have a little fun and break a few rules?” she asked, clearly annoyed at your reluctance. “Actually, I don’t even think there are rules against it. It’s just–”

“Frowned upon.”

“Yeah, but fuck that. You think about work too much, babe, and in this situation, it’s not helping,” she said.

“Trust me, I know.”

“Then for once, don’t overthink it. Just do what you want. Be bad,” she pleaded, shaking you a little, “I know deep down there’s a bad girl in you dying to come out.”

You pushed her hand away and tried to tamp down your smile at her antics. “I thought I was supposed to be _professor-of-the-decade_ this year?”

“You can do both! More specifically, do him,” she urged, beaming at you. She always made you laugh, even when you felt like everything was spiraling out of your control. When she spoke again, her tone shifted to something more serious. “And second of all, don’t put too much pressure on it at the start. You two already have the most important thing and that’s all that matters at this point.” 

“What’s that?” you asked curiously.

“A genuine connection based on mutual respect.” She paused to let her words sink in. “Do you know how special that is? That’s not something you can force or fake – it has to just be there. And you two have it. Don’t fight it. Fucking hold onto it.”

You thought over her words for a long time. “How do I– I don’t know how to fix things. He won’t even look at me, Bev,” you stressed, “And what if I’m reading into things and he doesn’t even¬–”

“Oh my God, you’re overthinking again,” she sighed. “I’m only going to explain this to you one more time. He _chooses_ to spend his time working with you. He’s always trying to get you to go out with him. He walks you home at night. He celebrates your successes and he cares about the way you’re treated by your co-workers. When he saw you with another man he pulled away because he wants to be that man. In no universe does he want to just be your friend. I don’t even have to meet him to know this. Are you hearing me?” She was using her mom voice on you again. You understood why her kids were usually so well behaved. She waited for you to nod to continue. “I can’t tell you if he’s a relationship guy or not – honestly, he sounds just as emotionally stunted as you based on both of your behaviors this week – but I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty. At the very least, and I’m talking bare minimum here, that man wants to fuck you.”

You buried your warming face against the sheets, trying to hide your smile. “God, I want to fuck him too.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Bev deadpanned. “Just start there and see what happens.”

“You’re right,” you said nodding at her again, “I just have to figure out how to mend things now.” 

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you bring him over and show him your new sheets,” she suggested with a wink, smoothing a hand across your bed, “I’m sure he’d help you break them in.”

“Bev!” you squealed, smacking her hand away, “You’re an idiot.”

“No, I think that title goes to you and Peña,” she said, “I might not be a professor but I’m a fucking genius compared to you two.” She rubbed her palm over the bed again. “These are very nice sheets by the way. I think Javier will really like them.”

The two of you erupted into a fit of giggles. 

… . …

The next day you summoned the courage to talk to Javier again. You broke the unspoken vow of silence with a gentle hand on his elbow as he made to leave the conference room after another boring faculty meeting. It was enough to stop him, and his eyes lingered on your hand for a long moment before meeting yours. You couldn’t help but notice something sad in his gaze. “Would you like to work together today?” you suggested, trying to sound more confident than you felt, “Maybe we could go to the library. It’s been a while.” 

Javier’s face was perfectly neutral as he thought over your offer. If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would’ve thought he hadn’t heard you. The only indication he even considered your words was the quick flick of his dark eyes down your body. What he was searching for, you could only guess.

“I–” You stumbled, the words catching in your throat. But you tried again. Tried to let your feelings guide you. “I miss you, Javier.”

You couldn’t bare the way he looked at you. His brown eyes betrayed an unsettling mix of emotions. Even if nothing ever happened between the two of you, you just wanted him to look at you like he used to. Wanted him to smile and laugh with you again. 

“I have a class to teach.” His head tilted to the side – his own version of a shrug – and you felt dismissed.

Javier left you alone in the empty conference room, your heart sinking in your chest. He didn’t even want to be your friend and that cut into you so deeply that it physically hurt. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and the room around you blurred. You took a deep breath and willed your emotions into submission, refusing to let his rejection get the better of you. 

“It’s my longer lecture, so I’ll have to meet you there in a couple of hours,” a rich baritone called from the open door. You looked up, blinking the unshed tears from your eyes, to see Javier standing in the threshold.

“Really?” you asked, you voice barely more than a breath. 

“I miss you too, _compañera_.”

… . …

Javier sat at your preferred table – the one tucked away in a far corner of the library next to a small window with a view of the campus – grading midterm exams from one of his classes. Every now and then he made a comment next to one of the short answer questions or deducted a point with his red pen, but overall, he was pleased with his student’s responses. He had half a mind to think he’d made the test too easy, but you’d helped him with it, and you knew what you were doing. Maybe his students were learning more in his lectures than he thought.

He’d only been there long enough to shuck off his suit jacket, roll up his sleeves, and score a couple exams when the sound of a book being placed on the table drew his attention away from his work. Javier lifted his head to find you taking your place across from him, looking at him with those bright eyes he’d missed the past week. That was what did him in earlier. He’d spent much of the last few days telling himself that the sudden rift between the two of you was for the best. That you needed someone who wasn’t anything like him, even if it was the chemist. He’d let his attraction to you cloud his judgement, let his emotions get the better of him and dream up an unrealistic scenario where you wanted to be with him. He still didn’t know where that came from; he wasn’t that type of man. But when you’d looked at him with those pleading eyes, you broke him. He hadn’t even made it halfway down the hall when he’d turned back to the conference room only to find those same eyes curiously watery.

He only hoped he’d made the right decision.

Without a single word, you opened your book and the black notebook you always used for notetaking, and he turned back to his exams. The two of you sat like that for quite some time. Long enough for most of the other people working in that section to leave for the night. But neither of you were working, not really. Javier could tell because you hadn’t flipped a page in ages. He’d accepted your invitation to work together in hope of getting some sense of normalcy back because he really did miss your company. But you’d both hurt each other in some strange way, and whatever was happening in that moment was not normal.

Eventually, the last student studying in your deserted corner packed up and left. It seemed early for the library to empty out, especially during midterms, but he didn’t think much of it. Javier was alone with you for the first time in over a week and that was all he could focus on. The tension was suffocating; coursing through the circulated air and waiting for something to set it off.

You reached for a different colored pen, an innocent enough action, and Javier’s eyes locked onto yours at the movement. Without even realizing it, he’d been waiting for you to do something. _Anything_. You froze under his stare. Whatever this was, this discomforting tension pulling taut between the two of you, he knew you felt it too.

“I, um, need to go find a book,” you lied and disappeared into the shelves of books. He knew you were lying. He didn’t even need to be retired law enforcement to see it written all over your face.

“Fuck it.” He tossed aside his exams, throwing the pen on top of the papers without caring that it rolled off the edge of the table. 

He found you at the end of a long row of shelves and he didn’t stop walking until he was right in front of you. You looked at him with wide eyes, but when your hands fell against his chest, you didn’t push him away. And when your eyes dropped to his mouth, lingering there for a beat too long, it was all the encouragement he needed. He cupped your face with the palm of his hand and let the pad of his thumb ghost over your soft bottom lip.

“Don’t tell me you don’t think about me too,” he said, his voice rumbling low in his chest.

“Javier,” your lips parted as you sighed around his name. You let him pull you closer to him, and your eyes closed as your noses brushed. He could feel your breath fanning out across his face with every unsteady exhale. He was so close to what he craved most that he almost couldn’t believe it. “I thought you moved on to someone else,” you whispered to him.

“I tried. Didn’t work. She– She wasn’t you.” 

“I know. He wasn’t you.” Fuck. That was exactly what he needed to hear.

“I want you so bad, _compañera_.” But he wanted – _needed_ – you to close the gap. He felt your fists close around the front of his shirt and was almost certain you were going to draw him to you.

“Excuse me,” a stern voice called, and you jumped back, pushing him away. “Oh, professors, I thought you were stray students.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Chapman, sorry to startle you,” you offered nervously. Javier busied himself by pulling a book off a nearby shelf. He shook his head, pretending to flip through the pages, as you suppressed a hysterical laugh at the situation next to him.

“Nonsense, you can’t scare these old bones,” she insisted, waiving you off. “It’s just that the library is closing early for the night. Scheduled maintenance, you see. There was a posting on the entrance,” she explained. “Sorry, dears, but you’ll have to work elsewhere.”

“Okay, Mrs. Chapman. We’ll be on our way,” you promised. The old librarian seemed satisfied with your response and disappeared to seek out lingering students. 

Javier watched you closely as you stared at the spot she had just vacated, a thousand different thoughts passing through your mind. He knew exactly what you were thinking, too. That her accidental interruption had been some sort of sign. You’d been hesitant to get close to him from the beginning. Your indecision now didn’t surprise him, even if it did hurt a little.

You turned to him as if to tell him something, but you appeared to lose your words. Instead, you closed the last bit of space between the two of you and pressed your lips to his. The book he’d been holding tumbled from his hands in his surprise, but he recovered quickly, eagerly pulling you against him. Your lips parted under his and as his tongue slid into your mouth, he absentmindedly noted that you tasted like that mint tea you insisted on drinking instead of coffee in the evenings. And something entirely you. Something he drank in like a man parched.

He couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. That it was better than he ever imagined. Needing more of you, one hand gently cradled the back of your head, allowing him to deepen the kiss, as he shoved roughly you into the bookshelves, pressing himself against you and knocking a few books over onto the tinny metal shelf.

You gasped against his mouth. “Mrs. Chapman’s going to scold you.”

“Quiet,” Javier growled, “Or she’ll come back for us.”

He stifled your laugh as he sealed his mouth against yours again. You pulled at the collar of his shirt and tried to draw him closer. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t physically possible. His hands traveled lower, one palming at the swell of your ass, and you moaned into his mouth. A shock of electricity bolted down his spine at the sound. He would’ve done anything to hear it again.

“I said the library was closing, dears.” 

That was not the sound he wanted to hear. You broke apart from him for the second time, and both of your faces snapped to the side only to find the librarian looking at the pair of you with raised brows.

“ _Fuck_ –” you squeaked as you buried your face in the crook of his neck and he held you there with a hand on the back of your head as if that would somehow protect you from the embarrassment that he knew you felt. He highly doubted you were the type of woman who got caught making out in the library even as a student let alone as a professor.

Mrs. Chapman strode off, shaking her head and muttering something about the professors being as bad as the students. 

“It’s okay, _hermosa_ ,” he offered, hoping it was of some comfort, “But we should probably go.”

You pulled away from him, wrapping your arms around your middle in the process. Your expression shifted back to something nervous, almost scared, as you chewed on your bottom lip. “Right. I need to get home to Sunny.”

“Hey,” he said, gently tilting your face toward his again with hand on your cheek. He needed you to look at him. If only to fend off the uneasy tension that threatened to fall between the two of you again. “We should, um, work together again sometime.”

Finally, _finally_ , your smile returned, curving beautifully against his palm. He’d fucking missed it the past week. “If only you should be so lucky, Javier.”

Just like that, he had you back.

… . …

At your last Saturday morning gym class, Tessa had announced that she was engaged with an earsplitting squeal. She’d held out her left hand to you, showing off the massive diamond, and detailed every minute of her boyfriend’s proposal. You’d been a little surprised; she was easily the youngest of the group and hadn’t been with her new fiancé for that long. But you were happy for her. She seemed head over heels in love and that was all that really mattered. 

Which was why on Sunday, you found yourself headed to brunch at a trendy beachfront restaurant in Santa Monica that promised overpriced food but bottomless mimosas. You were all dressed up and ready for an afternoon of celebration with Tessa, Alejandra, and a few other women – just as soon as you dropped off a stack of paperwork at the office that Dr. Campbell called and asked for that morning _despite_ telling you previously that he wouldn’t need it until the end of the next work week. If he was at the office over the weekend, it was safe to assume he and his wife were at odds once again, as they seemed to be every few months. It was a bit of a nuisance, but the campus was on your way, so it wasn’t much trouble.

After presenting Dr. Campbell with the files he so desired, you popped into your office to look for a book you couldn’t seem to find at home. You were startled just as you were pulling it off the shelf.

“What are you doing here?” a voice asked behind you. You tuned and saw Javier leaning casually against the threshold of your office, coffee mug in hand. You weren’t sure what he was doing on campus on a Sunday. Beyond the obvious fact that he was a workaholic. It seemed to be one of his favorite vices. You stepped toward him without ever consciously deciding to do so.

“Dr. Campbell needed some paperwork from me. And I needed to pick up a book.” You waved the hardback at him before tucking it into your purse. “What are you doing here?”

“Where are you going?” Javier asked with a raised brow, ignoring your question. You suddenly felt hot as his dark eyes raked over your body. You were wearing a floral slip dress over a white tee and a pair of strappy black sandals. Admittedly, it was different than what you normally wore to work. The hemline was a bit short. Very short, actually.

“Brunch with friends,” you answered breathlessly, which he, of course, noticed. You knew he noticed because there was suddenly a mischievous glint to his eyes. Javier was well aware of what he was doing to you and you hated him for it. That man was going to be your ruin. “I just– I just had to drop something off.”

“You said that already,” he challenged, the hint of a sly smile dancing on his lips.

He stepped into your office, abandoning his drink on your desk. When he crossed back to you there was a familiar look in his eyes – you’d only seen it once before, the other night at the library. With one hand, he closed the door behind you, locking it with a flick of his wrist, and caged you against it, forgoing any pretense of personal space. There was barely an inch between the two of you, your bodies nearly touching. It still wasn’t close enough. 

“This is cute.” He smirked at you as he fingered the hem of your dress between his thumb and index. The dress was flirty and fun and clearly making an impression on him. At least, as long as you were the one wearing it.

“Javier,” you sighed, meaning to chastise him.

It had the opposite effect. His dark eyes flicked up to yours. “Let me touch you,” he asked, swallowing hard.

You hadn’t had an opportunity to speak to him since the incident at the library. Even after the mind-blowing kiss you shared, you weren’t entirely sure where that left the two of you. You’d parted that night without so much as another kiss let alone discussing anything. But he wanted you and you wanted him. That much you were certain of. 

“Please,” he said quietly, his rich eyes searching yours, “It’s just us now.”

The last of your resolve, that final sliver of stubborn determination you’d held onto for so long, vanished. “Touch me, Javier”

Without breaking his stare, his rough hand slid up your dress, ghosting over the soft skin of your thigh. You weren’t sure what you expected when he asked to touch you, but his path surprised you, your breath hitching at the feel of his fingertips against your leg. He wasn’t wasting a single second; was clearly going for what he really wanted. He only stopped when he reached the front of your white French cut panties. Not your sexiest pair, you realized with an internal groan.

His hand gently encouraged you to part your legs and he pressed his fingers into you through the now-soaked cloth of your underwear, teasing you. You hadn’t realized how aroused he’d gotten you with just a suggestive look and a few pleading words, but you were ready for him. 

Of course, you’d really been ready for him for weeks.

“For me, _compañera_?”

You whimpered at the name, now a familiar endearment, and your knees buckled beneath you. Noticing your precarious stance, the hand holding his weight against the door fell to your hip, pressing you against the door and hiking up the skirt of your dress. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt – the stupid red one that haunted you in your dreams – in an attempt to steady yourself as he pushed aside your panties.

Your eyes fluttered shut when his fingers finally found your wet folds, gathering up your arousal before swirling around your sensitive bud. Pleasure radiated from your core and your head fell back, hitting the door with a loud bang. “Ow,” you muttered, scowling a bit at your own clumsiness.

“Careful,” he chided with a low chuckle. 

Before you could make a smart remark, he slid a thick digit inside of you, languidly penetrating you. You forgot about any pain you might’ve felt, and your head rolled back in pleasure, gently, that time. 

“Look at you, _hermosa_ ,” Javier murmured under his breath.

Your hips rolled against his palm on their own accord, silently begging for more, and he gifted you a second finger. Gripping him harder to keep yourself upright, you delighted in the way he stretched you. When the hand on your hip pulled you forward again, you cried out at the realization that he was encouraging you to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Oh, God!” you gasped, unable to stop yourself.

“You like that, baby?” he growled over the wet sound of his fingers thrusting into you.

“Yes! Fuck yes, Javier,” you panted between stuttering breaths, your lungs failing you as your abdomen contracted at the hedonistic pleasure. With his strong grip guiding you, you rocked against his fingers, letting him thrust into you.

Until it was suddenly almost _too much_. You stilled and tried to push him away.

His hand ceased its movements, but he didn’t leave your pulsing core. You opened your eyes and were met with a look of bewilderment. 

“You didn’t cum,” he stated, narrowing his eyes. “Did you?”

“I–” It would’ve been so much easier if you could just brush it off, but he saw right through you. You couldn’t lie to him. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when your pussy was filled with his fingers. Not when he just instinctively _knew_ what every man before never noticed.

You closed your gaping mouth and shook your head. 

You hadn’t thought he would notice. No one else ever did and now you had to face the fact that you’d gotten used to just letting men off easy and finishing for yourself later. It’s not that some men hadn’t been able to make you cum in the past, it was just that some point, it became routine to not orgasm. Without even realizing, you’d resigned yourself to enjoying sex but never properly finishing. “It’s okay.”

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled, his head dropping. When he faced you again, he met you with a hard, resolved look. “I don’t know about those other guys, _hermosa_ , but you’re not faking your orgasms with me. Understand?”

Your throat seemed to constrict around every word you tried to give him. So, you just nodded, still wide-eyed and in shock that Javier Peña was the first man to ever take a genuine interest in your pleasure. A whole new rush of arousal threatened to consume you at the thought.

“I’m going to make you cum all over these fingers,” he said darkly, resuming his previous motion, thrusting into you with the added bonus of his thumb drawing fast, tight circles around your clit. His eyes never left yours as he watched you intently, and his determination sent you speeding toward your release. “Your pleasure is mine now,” he growled.

“Yes! Oh, fuck!” you sobbed, overwhelmed by his words, “Ja– Javier!” You practically choked on his name as you came undone. That time you didn’t dare stop him, clenching around his fingers with a delirious cry you had to muffle with the back of your hand.

You braced yourself against the door as you regained your composure, still clutching the collar of his shirt. 

He removed himself from your center and attentively straightened your panties before letting the hem of your dress fall to the tops of your thighs. It was almost sweet.

You watched his every move as he then brought his hand to his mouth, slipping his fingers, still coated in your arousal, past his parted lips. 

That wasn’t sweet. That was depraved. 

You blinked at him as he tasted you with a quiet, satisfied hum, licking his fingers clean. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss him. To taste yourself on his lips. To show him how much you wanted him and to return the favor. 

He removed his fingers from his mouth with a slick _pop_.

“Enjoy your lunch, _compañera_.”

Oh, that. You shook yourself out of your reverie and gathered your purse, scooping up the few items that had escaped when you’d dropped it earlier and straightened your dress. He picked up his mug and followed you out, walking back toward his office.

“Javier,” you called after him, still having some sense in your post-orgasmic haze. He spun around on his heel and you offered him a coy smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he promised.

You thought about his lopsided grin the entire drive to Santa Monica.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Inspo  
> Reader's [Floral Slip Dress](https://www.asos.com/us/daisy-street/daisy-street-90s-cami-mini-dress-in-vintage-floral/prd/13577958)  
> Javi's [Red Shirt](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/post/612682815214075904/pedroispunk-narcos-208-exit-el-patr%C3%B3n) *sighs dreamily*  
> ... . ...
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you realize what a good professor Javier has become and resort to alternative methods to convince him of that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still reeling over the responses from the last chapter. I’m so grateful to everyone who reads this story and I hope you know I love you all. In terms of this chapter, well, this is basically porn without plot. But there’s lots of feelings so maybe that redeems it. 
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – explicit sexual content, oral sex, surprisingly vocal Javi. Mild language. 18+ only.

For no reason beyond the fact that it was the first day of the week, Monday mornings were usually the hardest days for you to crawl out of bed and drag yourself to work. But on that particular Monday, you all but jumped out of bed the second Sunny started to stir. The two of you made it to the dog park in record time.

Anyone passing by would have attributed the indelible smile on your face to the energetic, playful dog bounding around you, eager to chase after the tennis ball you brought along that day. And while they wouldn’t have been completely wrong, they would’ve been missing something entirely. You hadn’t been able to stop smiling ever since you kissed Javier at the library, and after what happened in your office the day before, you’d been floating on a veritable cloud nine. So much so that even your friends had noticed.

_“What’s got you so dreamy?” Alejandra asked, gesturing toward you with her second mimosa._

_“Seriously!” Tessa called from the head of the table of five women, “You’re taking the absentminded professor thing to a whole new level today.”_

_“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said, shaking recent memories from your mind, “I’m present, I promise.”_

_“You’re so not,” Harmony, one of Tessa’s friends from work accused lightly, “Who’s the guy?”_

_You opened your mouth to offer some sort of retort but came up short on excuses. You’d only just met the woman that morning and she’d seen right through you. Apparently, you were that easy to read._

_“Oh my god. Did you meet someone?” Tessa gasped. The whole table turned to you. Considering your audience was group of women at a champagne brunch celebrating someone’s engagement, you knew you weren’t getting out of that conversation alive without disclosing some of the details._

_“Kind of,” you offered sheepishly._

_“Yes!” Tessa cheered._

_“Girl, dish,” Alejandra urged, wide-eyed and grinning at you, “Like, right now.”_

_“It’s nothing serious. It’s really not much of anything yet,” you started, not quite knowing how to explain your delicate situation. “But even that, with Javier–”_

_“Javier,” Tessa sighed dramatically, resting the back of her hand against her forehead and fanning herself. The whole table laughed at her antics, yourself included._

_“I like him already,” Alejandra said pointedly._

_“Me too,” you conceded. “He’s just different. It’s something… special.”_

_A chorus of coos swept over the table and you reached for the nearest alcoholic beverage._

To say you were in a good mood was a bit of an understatement. After weeks of confusion and frustration – mostly directed at yourself – you’d finally accepted your growing feelings for Javier and allowed things to play out as they were meant to. There was a lot of relief in that even if there were also things left unsaid. What mattered was that you liked him, and he clearly liked you too. The rest would sort itself out. You didn’t know what would happen next as Javier had proven capable of continually surprising you, but, for once in your life, that didn’t bother you.

Your cheery disposition carried you through the morning and to campus much earlier than normal. With nothing else to do before your own class, you slipped into Javier’s lecture, taking a seat in the last row to catch the final twenty minutes. He was as handsome as ever in a well-pressed navy suit that seemed better tailored to his figure than some of the others. His copper colored tie contrasted perfectly with the soft blue of his dress shirt. It was early enough in the day that his brown locks were still effortlessly styled, his hair pushed off his face and unruffled by his own hands. He lazily paced the front of the hall, his long strides carrying him from one end of the room to the other as he talked. One hand in his trouser pocket, he held a piece of chalk between two fingers, almost like a cigarette, in the other, gesturing with it sometimes. It was an image you never wanted to forget.

Still, you were pleasantly surprised when you found yourself hastily jotting down notes on the back of your own lecture outline.

A young woman sitting in the front of the hall raised her hand and he promptly called on her. “When you’re dealing with multiple agencies like that, how do you judge which directives to prioritize?”

“The first thing you have to realize is that everyone has agendas. Especially government workers.” He rolled his eyes and his students laughed. He continued more seriously, and you felt like you were getting a glimpse of the man that used to work in an embassy overseas far from that crowded lecture hall. “Sometimes it’s up to you to use your best judgement as to who to trust and that’s not going to win you friends. If you’re out in the field, you’re going to have to make a lot of hard calls – possibly in life or death situations – and that’s not something that can be taught.”

It struck you that he’d eased into the role of an educator so naturally. You wouldn’t have believed it a month ago, and you still weren’t convinced he believed it himself, but it suited him. You appreciated the way he spoke to his class; he didn’t talk down to them or brush off any questions, no matter how irrelevant, and what he had to say was important. It was no wonder his audience was captivated.

You were captivated.

Watching him teach did something to you that you didn’t fully understand, but you knew you liked the feeling it ignited deep inside you. Liked the warmth it left on your cheeks. When he finished his lecture, he walked past your seat without a word, only a wink. 

You approached the podium, ready to focus on your own class, and found a scrap of paper torn from a legal pad folded neatly in the center of the cherry wood. You recognized his scrawl immediately. 

_Learn anything, compañera?_

You smiled to yourself and tucked the paper safely away in the pocket of your binder, giving into some quiet desire to preserve his note.

… . …

An hour later, Javier was sat at his desk, his suit jacket thrown aside and tie loosened around his neck. His eyes crossed as he attempted to read the paper in front of him for the fourth time. He’d assigned one of his classes an essay for the midterm and now he was paying for it by having to actually read his student’s work. Most of it wasn’t too bad so far, with some excellent exceptions, but the one he was stuck on was practically incomprehensible. He had half a mind to mark it a “D” and not suffer through attempting to read the rest of it. A little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like yours told him that wasn’t the right thing to do.

The grading was slow going, but it didn’t help that while Javier should’ve been focusing on his student’s papers, he was thinking about you. 

As he’d watched you walk away the day before, Javier realized there was so much more he wanted to say. Exactly what that was, he wasn’t quite sure. Fortunately, the look on your face as you’d smiled at him told him that he had time to figure that out. Despite the mishaps and the momentary doubts, neither of you were going to deny your attraction anymore. He couldn’t; that much was certain. He hadn’t waited that long to make a move on someone in his entire life, but he genuinely hadn’t wanted to jeopardize your new friendship. Not only did the two of you work together – and you worked together _really fucking well_ – but you really were the only person in the entire city that he genuinely liked. To change the status quo was a risk.

In the end, it was worth it. You were worth it.

The way you’d looked pressed up against your office door, moaning his name as you unraveled, undone by his own hands, was worth any risk. He wanted you again. Wanted to make you whimper and whine, pleasure you like no one else ever had. Because you deserved it. And it felt so good for him to give it to you. He wanted so much more of you and he couldn’t remember the last time it felt like this with anyone. Truthfully, he liked you much more than he probably should’ve or even knew what to do with.

He needed to get a grip on himself. 

Focusing back on the essay in front of him, Javier tried rereading it the from the beginning, despite knowing it wasn’t going to get any better the fifth time around, when there was a soft knock at his half open door. He didn’t bother looking up, silently cursing himself for not shutting it in the first place.

“Office hours are from noon to three on Wednesdays. Or something. I don’t even know,” he mumbled, hoping whoever it was would leave quietly so he could work.

“Even for me?”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You leaned against his doorway, your brow quirked playfully, as you waited for his response. He allowed himself a moment to take you in as his eyes glanced over your sleek black pantsuit and matching heels. You looked as smart and sexy as ever. “I think I can make an exception, but only for you, _compañera_ ,” he said finally.

Javier swore he caught something mischievous in your smile as you closed the door, leaning against it with your hands behind your back. It seemed a little odd until he heard the _click_ of the lock slipping into place. He sat up a little straighter at the sound.

With the way the two of you left so much unsaid the day before, he had no idea what to expect from you as you approached him. But there you were. And, for whatever reason, you’d sat in on his class that morning. That had to mean something. Even if he wasn’t sure what he wanted it to mean. Javier watched closely as you carefully pushed aside his papers – his desk was an absolute mess, but you had already come to expect that from him – and sat atop of the large mahogany desk left behind by the office’s previous occupant. “I enjoyed your lecture today,” you offered as you toyed with a stray pen.

“I noticed.” He tilted his head to try to get you to look at him properly. “Were you taking notes in _my_ class?” 

“I was,” you laughed, “I might’ve even learned something.” You finally faced him, your sharp, curious eyes seeking out something in him, and your next words were much more serious. “I think you have the makings of a brilliant professor.”

“I don’t know about that,” Javier countered, shaking his head. Something almost sad crossed your face as you frowned at him, lips twisted and brow puckered, as if you didn’t believe him, and his eyes fell away from yours. He scratched at his jaw before placing a daring a hand on your knee, idly stroking your trousers with his thumb. Touching you again sent a small spark through him. He now knew intimately what the soft skin of your legs felt like and he was reminded of the day before. His gaze slowly trailed upwards from that singular point of contact to your face, imaging how the rest of you might feel beneath his hands. He swallowed dryly as he tried to push those thoughts from his mind. “Luckily, I’m learning from the best.” 

“Javier,” you said around a soft smile, “You have no idea what it means to me when you say things like that.” You gingerly traced the arch of his cheekbone with your fingertips before placing your hand on his own. “But I meant what I said. You’re good at this.”

“You didn’t come here just to compliment me, did you?” he asked, not wanting to talk about himself and feeling emboldened when you didn’t push his hand away.

“I did, actually” you said coyly. Seeming to make up your mind about something, you slid off the desk and dropped to your knees in front of him, your hands resting lightly on the tops of his thighs. “But if you won’t believe me, maybe I can convince you some other way. If you’re interested of course.”

Javier stilled beneath your touch, stunned. In the back of his mind, he knew he must’ve looked ridiculous: slack jawed and wide eyes fixed on you as your fingers inched closer to his belt buckle. You looked up at him as you traced the silver metal, still waiting for some sort of response. He just couldn’t believe that after all this time you were kneeling before him and gazing at him with those beautiful, lust-clouded eyes. Finally coming back into himself, he nodded eagerly and readjusted in his chair, making more room for you to settle comfortably in between his spread legs. 

“I thought about doing this during my entire class,” you admitted as you undid his leather belt.

“Really?” he asked, not quite believing you. “Holy shit,” he cursed when you nodded.

“Watching you lecture turned me on, Javier,” you cooed as you unzipped his pants and rubbed his stiffening cock through the fabric of briefs. It hadn’t taken much to get him hard on once he realized what you intended to do. Especially considering the fact that he’d been all but consumed by thoughts of you the entire morning. He let out a shaky breath as you palmed him, relieved in more ways than one. You played with the waistband of his briefs, sliding one finger beneath the elastic and pulling it away from him, as you asked much too politely, “May I?”

“Fuck yes,” he gasped. “Why are you fucking asking, _hermosa_? You can have it anytime you want.”

“GI'll keep that in mind,” you said with a devilish grin as you freed him from the confines of his briefs with nimble fingers. “Oh my–” you breathed as your lips parted slightly at the sight of him. That simple, innocent exhalation stroked his ego like wildfire and his cock twitched at your reaction. Licking your lips, you pulled his pants down a little more and moved his shirt out of the way, granting yourself full access to him.

Until something caught your eye, and you paused. He knew that look well; you were thinking something over carefully. Tentatively, you traced over a scar on his hip he’d long forgotten about with the pad of your finger. The scar was old, already fading, but still a jagged, rough line marring his skin. Looking up at him through your lashes, your eyes asked the question for you. 

“A raid in Bogota went south. Some _sicario_ stabbed me, but, uh, it ended much worse for him.” He offered half of a shrug. 

“You’re a dangerous man, Javier Peña,” you murmured as you brushed your lips across the scar. He thought it was much too tender for the situation. He felt his throat constrict and refuse to fill his lungs with air as your own breath ghosted over his skin. Yet, the lack of oxygen didn’t bother him. All he wanted to do was bring those gentle lips to his own, breathe in your kisses.

But just as you surprised him with your softness, your eyes darkened, and your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His head fell back against the overstuffed leather of his chair at your first touch, and he knew he was wildly and thoroughly fucked. The sly look on your face told him you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and you seemed intent on pushing him to his limit as you leaned over him, pursed your lips, and _spit_ on his cock. 

“Fuck,” he gasped.

You pumped him experimentally, almost teasingly, using your salvia and the bit of precum dribbling from his head to ease each pass of your hand. When you squeezed a little tighter on your next stroke and a desperate groan escaped him.

“Do you like that, Javier?” you asked, feigning innocence. 

“Don’t fucking tease me, baby.”

“Why not? You seemed to enjoy teasing me yesterday.” Before he could respond, you leaned forward and traced his tip around your lips. You were wearing that damn lipstick again and it nearly did him in. “Would you prefer I use my mouth for something else?” you continued teasing just before your pink tongue darted out to taste him.

He didn’t even attempt to answer. You knew what he wanted, and, in an act of mercy, you gave it to him. You licked a broad stripe up the underside of his length before taking him in your warm, wet mouth. A slew of curses, some English and some Spanish, tumbled from his lips.

“I can’t– Fucking believe this–” he grunted as you moved up and down his cock. What you couldn’t quite reach with your mouth you worked expertly with your hand and he was quickly losing himself to you. “Yesterday– You were so much fun to touch. I’ve– I’ve been thinking about your pussy all day, the way you came around my fingers. Fuck– You looked so– So pretty. You tasted so good.” Javier wasn’t usually much of a talker during sex. In fact, he hardly ever said anything if he didn’t have too. But with your mouth around him, couldn’t shut up. He didn’t quite understand it. Except that those were all of the things he’d wanted to say to you before and hadn’t. Now, he couldn’t stop himself from saying them. “I’ve wanted you, baby. You gonna let me do that again?” he asked. Or maybe he pleaded.

You stopped sucking him to nod, smirking up at him. “Yes. But I need you to focus, Javier,” you chided playfully, and he let out a breathy laugh. “I’m supposed to be the one making you feel good right now.” 

“So fucking good– Seeing you between my legs is so hot.” His hand on the back of your head guided your mouth to his cock, encouraging you to continue, and you let him push you down, took him as far as you could. “Fuck, baby, look at you. Your smart mouth wrapped around my cock.” You gagged around him and he twitched in your mouth. He was dangerously close. “Let me cum in your mouth, _hermosa_.” 

You hummed your agreement around him – something that felt way better than it should’ve – and gave his thigh a slight squeeze that he interpreted as a _yes_. You let him hold you in place with a firm hand, and, as if sensing what he needed, you hallowed your cheeks at just the right moment, bringing him to his release. He came long and hard, filling your mouth with his pent up spend. He couldn’t remember the last time an orgasm felt _that_ good. Left him absolutely breathless.

Javier watched in awe as you pulled off and showed him that you swallowed everything he gave you. That alone was a sight to behold. But when you wiped a drop of cum off the corner of your mouth and licked your finger clean before grinning up at him, he had to run a hand over his face to calm himself, overwhelmed by your actions. 

As Javier attempted to catch his breath, you tucked him back into his pants. You reached for his belt, but he stopped you, hauling you up from your kneeling position so that you were sitting across his lap, perfectly perched on one of his thighs. He needed to kiss you again. He hadn’t kissed you since the library. But he intended to fix that.

He ran his thumb across your swollen lips and leaned toward you–

_Knock, knock, knock._

You jolted in his grasp and both of your heads snapped towards the door.

“If one more fucking person interrupts us,” he growled frustratedly. He tightened his grip on you, holding you against him so you wouldn’t leave yet, and rested his face on your chest, breathing in your fresh, floral scent. You carded your fingers through his hair, and he sighed at the sensation. 

“You should answer that,” you suggested much to his chagrin. He didn’t want you to leave – not yet.

“What I should do, _compañera_ ,” Javier started, looking up at you with dark eyes, “Is prop you up on this desk, spread your legs so fucking wide, and eat your pussy until you’re crying my name out for this whole campus to hear.”

Your eyes widened at his words, but as soon as you opened your mouth the respond, the two of you were reminded just where you were.

“Professor?” a tentative voice called from behind the locked door. You gave him a sad, bitter smile, and he knew you were going to leave him.

“As much as I’d like that, and I think I would really, really like that,” you said quietly, tracing his lips with the pad of your index finger, “It’ll have to wait. Right now, your student needs you, Professor Peña.”

“When?” he asked, sounding much too excited for his own good.

“You know where to find me,” you said nonchalantly as you pushed yourself off of his lap and straightened your blouse. But you were smiling; you liked this too. Whatever _this_ was. Just as you were about to unlock the door, you turned back to him. “You decent?”

“I guess,” he hissed as he fixed his trousers and buckled his belt, “Yeah.”

“Hi, Shelly. Sorry to keep you waiting,” you said cheerily to the young woman outside of his office.

“No problem at all, professor,” the curly haired blonde replied as she slipped into his office, “I just need to ask Professor Peña about this week’s reading assignment.”

“By all means, he’s all yours,” you said, throwing a smirk his way, “I’m finished with him for now.”

… . …

After leaving Javier’s office, you scurried across the social sciences quad, running slightly behind for a meeting with the women’s studies department. As an affiliate faculty member and secondary advisor to a couple of their doctoral students, it was important that you attended as many of their departmental meetings as possible. This one was especially pertinent since the afternoon’s topic of discussion was qualifying exams for the more advanced students. You’d almost forgotten about the meeting while you were _otherwise occupied_ with Javier and as you glanced at your watch, you realized you only had a few minutes to spare. 

With a hand on the conference room door, you hesitated as you glanced down the hall towards the women’s restroom. You told yourself you just needed to check your appearance, maybe rise your mouth out and reapply your lipstick. However, as you locked yourself in the furthest stall after checking that the other stalls were unoccupied, your lie fell apart.

Leaning against the cool tiled wall, you unbuttoned the front of your trousers and slide a trembling hand inside. When your fingertips met the slick arousal coating your center, you had to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning out Javier’s name. Your current state was entirely his fault, after all. Wasting no time, you started drawing tight, fast circles around your clit, needing to expedite the process as much as possible so that you could sit through the hour-long meeting without imploding from suppressed desire. You’d gone to Javier’s office with every intention of talking to him but that just… didn’t happen. And now the events of the encounter replayed in your mind, sending you hurtling towards your own release as you thought about tasting him, watching him come undone, hearing his filthy words. He’d been just as eager and excited as you, and it left you with a desperate ache between your legs you knew only he could satisfy. Your own fingers had to suffice – and you sent yourself over the edge as you came on your own hand, capable as ever at handling your own orgasms. But even as your legs threatened to give out beneath you, you cursed the fact that it wasn’t nearly as good as the day before. 

You needed Javier again. 

Already.

You washed your hands, rinsed your mouth, and fixed your appearance as best you could before running into the meeting just as it was scheduled to start. You only hoped that the other women assumed your flustered state was due to your rush to make the meeting on time and not the fact that you’d just rubbed one out after spending your break on your knees for one of your colleagues. 

“We were just wondering where you were,” Dr. Sylvia Santos, the chair of the women’s studies department, greeted you with a kind smile, “It’s not like you to be the last one here.”

“My apologies – I got held up in another meeting.” The lie almost came too easy.

“Nonsense, you’re right on time.” She took her seat at the head of the table and you slipped into the last open chair.

Ruth Delacour, the meek but perpetually kindhearted professor sitting next to you, offered you a glass of water from one of the pitcher’s set out on the table. You accepted it with a forced smile, hoping to hide your embarrassment, and downed the glass. Did you really look as flushed and feverish as you felt? Was it _that_ obvious? You really needed to figure out to how to keep this going without it becoming transparent that you were fooling around across campus.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts and attempting to compose yourself, you did your best to focus on the meeting you were supposed to be paying attention to with little more than mild success. It seemed Javier had taken up a permanent residency in your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I love hearing from and connecting with you all so much! Feel free to leave a comment below or find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier find a little time to yourselves after a chaotic week on campus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a professor au if there’s no smushin’ in the library? (But, for my sake, can we all please ignore the unprofessionalism there? lol)
> 
> Wow, your continued support for this story blows my mind every chapter. I never expected it and I hope you all know how grateful I am to all of you. Thank you for every read, kudos, comment – everything! 
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – explicit sexual content, oral sex, fairly-public sex, dirty talk. Mild language. 18+ only.

Alone in bed in his dark room, Javier sat with elbows resting on his bent knees and palms flat against his forehead as he attempted to compose himself. Familiar images still flashed through his mind. Remnants of his latest nightmare. That time it wasn’t anything specific. Just a montage of various moments his mind forced him to relive. Mostly bullets and blood. The only thing connecting each event was that he was at the center of it all.

He wasn’t sure what was worse. The nights when scenes from his past presented themselves so vividly, he actually believed he was back in Colombia or when every terrible moment played in his mind on loop, threatening to overwhelm him.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to focus on the present. He noted the warm breeze flowing in through the open window kissing his sweat-slicked bare skin, the ceaseless sound of traffic from the street below already busy even before the dawn, and the vague shapes of his bedroom furniture barely lit by the mix of silver moonlight and a nearby golden streetlamp. The futile exercise, something suggested to him by his aunt after his father noticed his sleepless nights, did nothing to distract him and he grew increasingly frustrated at himself for not being able to control his own mind. He should’ve been able to handle a few memories.

He was tempted to dig out the half-finished box of cigarettes hiding in the back of his kitchen drawer, but Javier had promised himself, once again following his most recent relapse, that he’d stop smoking. When he was using that stupid gum, which he begrudgingly admitted helped sometimes, you’d made fun of him for popping it like the candy it wasn’t. But you’d also given him subtle encouraging comments that made him want to follow through on his pledge. No one else had ever said anything like that to him.

As soon as your name pushed its way to the front of his sleep-deprived brain, images of you – laughing over drinks, talking under those arches, deep in thought as you read or wrote or graded something – flooded his mind, replacing those violent memories. He latched onto those moments instead, and, for whatever reason, that grounded him. Or, at least, provided a tempting enough distraction so that his breathing slowed and his muscles uncoiled. Focusing on you made him forget about the nightmare, so he indulged it. It was as if that nightmare was of his past, and you were something of his present. Something good.

He laid back against his pillow and thought about how he’d get to see you that day at yet another weekly faculty meeting. Except for brief moments of passing on campus, usually surrounded by students or other professors, he hadn’t seen you since you’d visited him in his office that Monday. It’d been a hell of a week, but midterms were finally over and graded, and he found himself wanting to spend any free time he might’ve had with you. Maybe you’d finally agree to grab a drink with him without putting up such a fight. Considering what had happened earlier that week, he figured your insistence on being strictly colleagues was a thing of the past.

Javier’s eyes fluttered shut and as he drifted back to sleep, his mind supplied a new dream. One where you were there in bed with him. As he hovered in that liminal space between consciousness and sleep, he absentmindedly thought it was strange – most dreams he had featuring women he was interested in were much more salacious in nature. Of course, the fact that he was actually falling asleep again after a nightmare was a rare enough phenomenon that he considered it all some sort of accident.

… . …

Across town, you woke peacefully a few hours later to bright rays of sunlight streaming into your east facing apartment. It was late October – you noted that Halloween must’ve been sometime later that week – but there was a warm breeze rustling your curtains. Another summer-like fall day. You stretched out a bit before snuggling back into your soft sheets, not quite ready to leave the comfort of your bed. Sunny was already awake and ready to start the day, but you pulled her close and hugged her to you. For once, even she seemed to agree that five more minutes of sleep was necessary, and she happily snuggled into you.

It was a slower morning than normal, and you took a bit of extra time to have a cup of tea at home and play with Sunny even after your trip to the park. You showered quickly but dressed leisurely, taking your time with your beauty regimen and deciding on an outfit. Eventually, you selected a cream-colored, silky blouse and an A-line skirt to pair with your favorite flats. Sensible, chic, and, hopefully, cool enough to survive the day. Just because the university refused to keep the air conditioning on, didn’t mean you wanted to sweat through your lectures.

When you did wander over to campus, you spent most of the morning working in your office, cheerfully chatting with the students who stopped by sporadically. You always kept your door open and made sure your students, past and present, knew that they were welcome outside of scheduled office hours.

It wasn’t until just before the usual faculty meeting that you finally left your office. As you stepped out, you were met with the sight of Javier locking his own office door, presumably on his way to the same meeting. You paused to appreciate the cut of his gray suit and his slightly tousled hair, wondering in the back of your mind if he’d had a much more stressful morning than you.

“See something you like, professor?” he asked without even glancing your way. You could _hear_ his smug smirk. That man was always aware of everything going on around him, a skill you attributed to his years with the DEA.

“Not sure what you’re talking about, Peña,” you said as nonchalant as possible, ever mindful of your colleagues around you, as you fell into step next to him. No one knew about your evolving relationship with the visiting lecturer. Most probably didn’t even realize you were friends. With their noses stuck in dusty old books most of the day, they weren’t exactly the most socially aware bunch. All things considered, you figured it would serve you best to keep whatever was happening between you and Javier to yourselves.

“Really? Because I would’ve sworn, I just felt your eyes all over me,” he said, his voice even lower than normal.

“You must be imagining things,” you retorted, peering sideways at him, “Hell, I still think you need glasses.”

You caught his smile as he looked over his shoulder. Just as you were about to turn down the hallway leading to the conference room, he pulled you backwards, caging you against the wall as he molded his lips to yours. Trusting that you were alone, and well aware of the fact that you hadn’t kissed him since that fated day in the library, you returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm. That time, you noted, he didn’t taste like tobacco. Just that office brew he insisted wasn’t _that_ bad. For once, you didn’t mind it. You found him more addictive than caffeine itself.

“What was that for?” you asked when you broke away just far enough to take in a breath. A pair of strong hands held you in place against him, and yours found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into his hair

“I’ve wanted to do that all week,” Javier rasped, “And I’ve been thinking about you all goddamn morning.”

“Really?” you teased. He nodded, and you’d thought he was just flirting with you until you saw something almost sad cross his face. Those brown eyes always told you more than what he said. And the pinch of his brow and the dark circles under his eyes hinted at something that was bothering him. Before you could ask a single question, he captured your mouth with his once more, cradling the back of your head and holding you close as your lips came together and pulled apart again and again. It was hypnotizing, and you could feel yourself forgetting your half-formed question and falling under his spell.

You let your fingertips brush along his cheeks and jaw, tentatively tracing his features and earning a sharp inhale from him as his lips parted against yours. You understood it; a spark of raw electricity coursed through you from every point of contact, every time you touched him. You wondered idly if that reaction would ever fade.

“What are you doing after this?” you asked as he placed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. He rested his forehead against yours and sighed, his breath fanning out across your face.

“I have to teach a class,” he grumbled as he toyed with the top button of your blouse, slipping it out of the buttonhole and trailing a finger over the swell of your breast. It sent a shiver of excitement through you.

“What a shame,” you said with a mock pout. Pulling him towards you by his tie, you placed one last lingering kiss on his plush lips.

The faculty meeting that followed paled in comparison.

You and Javier each took a seat opposite the other at the long conference table. You weren’t the last to join the meeting – that title always went to the perpetually late cultural sociologist, Dr. Weston – but the options were few. You quickly decided you preferred it when he sat next to you, finding yourself continually distracted from the actual meeting taking place. Granted, the latest departmental update regarding the new photocopier no one could seem to operate wasn’t exactly a riveting topic.

The meeting progressed, and you jotted down a few notes on upcoming events – student workshops, faculty presentations, and the like – but when Sheffield chimed in with news about some prestigious grant he was up for, you tuned out of the conversation. Letting your eyes wander back to Javier, you had to restrain your laughter at the sight of him scowling up at the ceiling with a petulant frown. Irritated might’ve been an understatement.

He’d told you once, in no uncertain terms, that the reason he hated Sheffield was almost exclusively because of the way he treated you. The remaining one percent was dedicated to his relentless invitations to golf with him and his buddies. His comment had brought a smile to your face then, and, apparently, it still did.

When he finally unglued his eyes from the ceiling, Javier’s gaze fell to yours. Bored and more than a little turned on, you shifted in your seat, leaning forward to rest your head against your hand so that your blouse fell open just a fraction where you left it unbuttoned. Unsurprisingly, it was enough to catch Javier’s attention. The man had no shame. Although, apparently, neither did you. When his eyes flicked back up to yours, he raised a brow, giving you a look that suggested he was going to devour you whole the next time the two of you were alone.

You couldn’t wait.

… . …

“I always know where to find you.”

You looked up from your work to find Javier sitting on the edge of your library table, smiling down at you. “I’ll admit I’m not exactly an unpredictable person – should be easy for a former federal agent.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but there was no venom in his glare. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, suggestively running a finger along the neckline of your blouse, much like he had earlier that morning.

“I’m working–”

“You’re always working, _hermosa_.”

“Well, this is for my book.”

“You’re writing a book?” His fingers idled on your collar.

“That’s part of the job description. Practically everyone around here is writing a book,” you elucidated with a light laugh. “I have to submit a draft of the first couple of chapters in a few weeks, so this is kind of important. I’m double checking some of my references and these specific books are non-circulating. If they can’t leave the library, then neither can I. I’m sorry–”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, shaking his head as he placed his briefcase on the table next to you and flicked on a second table lamp, “That’s amazing. First book?”

You held up two fingers and he just blinked at you. “Jesus–” he cursed, “How do you have time for all of this?”

“As you can probably tell, I don’t do much besides this.” There was a part of you that was almost disappointed in yourself. Once again, you chose work over some semblance of a personal life. But that was important, and you really hadn’t expected Javier to show up that night. And yet, he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve noticed. We’ll fix that.” Smirking, he sat down on the chair next to you – not the one across the table like usual. When he noticed your quizzical stare, he gestured back to your mess of papers and books, “But not tonight. _Trabaja, compañera_.”

He started in on his own work, but you found yourself transfixed on his profile. He always offered you his support and company so easily, and it never ceased to amaze you.

Javier held true to his promise of letting you work. For a couple of hours.

As time ticked by slowly and he grew increasingly bored of grading quizzes – you could tell because both his sighs and the mark of his red pen became much more dramatic – he was less inclined to let you work in peace. Perhaps that wasn’t his intention, but the firm hand on your thigh was proving to be quite the distraction, nonetheless. Every time someone left your quiet corner of the library, his hand crept almost imperceptibly higher, until he was well under the hem of your skirt, stroking the supple flesh of your inner thigh.

You were trying so hard to focus on the draft you were editing. Really, you were. But you remembered the last time his hand was between your legs. It was a memory you’d recalled more often than you wanted to admit just in the past few days. You did your best not to squirm in your seat, but every time you shuddered or shifted, he only grew bolder and you were quickly losing any sense of focus you might’ve had at one time.

With gritted teeth, you tried to admonish him as you attempted to copy a quote from one of your sources in the margin of your paper. “You need to stop,” you whispered. It was a hollow threat made even more feeble by the way your legs parted for him when he reached the waistband of your panties.

“You sure about that?” he murmured, not even bothering to look up from his papers. He was just _barely_ touching you; teasing you, tracing light patterns over your sensitive bud, dipping his fingers down to your entrance. Still, you gripped your pen tighter.

“Just like last time,” he said under his breath, “Do you always get this wet or is it just for me?”

You had to cover your mouth to stifle the noise that threatened to reveal your precarious situation to everyone in the library. There was one last table full of students working diligently and you prayed to every deity you’d ever heard of that they would give up on their studies and leave for the night. That didn’t make you a bad professor, did it? Surely a couple of young twenty-somethings had somewhere better to be.

“ _Trabaja, compañera_ ,” Javier chastised under his breath, echoing his words from earlier.

You huffed out a frustrated sound as you attempted to roll your hips against his hand, looking for some sort of friction where you needed it most. Making a disappointed tutting sound, he started to remove his hand from your core.

Your hand shot to his wrist, holding him in place. “No, no, no,” you pleaded quietly.

“Are you going to be good?” he asked, never taking his eyes off his work. Compared to you, he looked like the epitome of concentration and tranquility.

“Promise,” you sighed, and he resumed his ministrations. You picked up your pen and continued taking notes, and he rewarded you by slowly sliding two fingers into your center where you were more than wet and ready for him. His fingers pumped into you just enough to drive you crazy but not nearly enough to take you where you so desperately wanted to go. However, his slow pace almost didn’t matter; you _liked_ having his fingers inside of you while he acted so calm and collected. He was driving you crazy in the best way.

You had to bite your lip to keep from moaning in relief as the last table of students started to pack up their belongings and Javier chuckled darkly at you. “You ready?” he asked, carefully removing his hand from your core as they disappeared from sight.

“God, yes,” you answered eagerly, assuming he was going to continue what he started.

However, in one quick movement, he pulled your chair out from under the table and towards him and dropped to his knees in front of you. He pushed your skirt up and hooked his fingers around the band of your panties.

“What are you doing?” you looked around frantically, suddenly certain someone was going to see him on his kneeling in front of you, “We can’t– Last time–”

“Relax. It’s late and no one’s here. We’ll be fine as long as you can stay quiet.” With one hand on your chin, he turned your face towards him. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded emphatically as the shock of his boldness wore off. Javier certainly wasn’t a man intimidated by much. Not even the fantasies from the darker corners of your mind. Things you wouldn’t normally voice. Apparently, you didn’t even have to with him.

“Good. Now eyes stay on me. I want you to watch me eat your pussy.”

You watched, eyes half-lidded with desire, as he slid your lacy black panties down and off your legs, your hips accommodating him heedlessly. He pocketed them with a sly smirk before bending over to lick your wet heat. You mewled quietly in pleasure and relaxed into the unexpected situation, letting the quiet library disappear around you.

“Taste even better than I remember,” Javier muttered against your pussy and you thought he might’ve been talking to himself more than you. For some reason, that was even better. He maneuvered one of your legs so that your thigh rested on his shoulder, pulling you to the edge of your chair and spreading you open obscenely.

“I think you like the idea of me taking you like this where anyone could see. Look at this wet cunt.” He flattened his tongue against your folds to emphasize his point. “This fucking turns you on. You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you answered hoarsely, your eyes locked on his.

“Yeah, you do,” he said.

“Shut up, you smug bastard,” you managed to ground out. “You do too.” Aside from a wicked flash of a smile, he ignored your challenge, but you knew you were right.

“You’ve never had anyone who could fuck you properly before, have you?” he mused as he traced your aching clit. Your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, but you refused to let your eyes fall shut. Not when Javier was staring up at you as filthy words fell from his lips. “You didn’t answer me.”

“No, Javier. Not until you,” you conceded truthfully.

“And we’re just getting started, _hermosa_.”

Without another word, he dove in. The way he lapped at you as he explored you with his mouth was almost obscene, and you relished the feeling of finally knowing what it would be like to have him in between your legs. You wound your fingers through his dark locks, wanting to hold him in place against you. As his lips slid over your dripping core, his warm tongue teasing and flicking your clit, you failed miserably to suppress a heady groan.

“Oh fuck,” you exhaled, “Just like that.”

Javier’s tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves again and his deft fingers slid easily back inside you, giving you everything you asked for and more. You keened against him, and that only seemed to spur him on. With his free hand, he palmed your breast through your blouse, overwhelming you with the attention he was giving your body.

Still thrusting into you, he pulled his mouth away from your pussy just long enough to nibble at your thigh and look up at you with those pleading brown eyes. “Let me see your tits, baby,” he requested, mumbling into your skin.

And because you’d clearly lost your mind, or maybe because, as you were quickly learning, you’d do anything for him, you unbuttoned your blouse just enough to pull your bra down so that your breasts spilled out of your top. Eyes never leaving your chest, he reattached his lips to your clit and hummed his satisfaction, the low sound vibrating against your core. His hand found your breast again, enthusiastically squeezing your soft flesh, tweaking and rolling your peaked nipple between his fingers. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding against your chest, threatening to burst from your ribcage as he worked you towards the edge.

“Javier, I’m gonna–”

He nodded against you and tightened the circles he drew around your clit with his tongue, timing it perfectly as he curled his fingers just enough to hit that elusive sensitive spot inside you. Your breath hitched in a silent scream, still mindful of your less than ideal location, as something in you snapped, giving way to your release. He worked you through your orgasm with his fingers and mouth as you came, drawing out your pleasure as much as possible, until you fisted the collar of his suit jacket and pulled his lips to yours.

You kissed him fervently and feverishly, feasting on his mouth. Your tongue slid past his parted lips, caressing his as you tasted your own arousal, and he cupped your cheek with his clean hand, deepening the kiss. Even as you broke away to straighten your skirt and readjust your blouse, he pulled his chair closer to yours, and pressed his lips lazily to any bit of exposed skin along your collar, your neck, your jaw. It struck you that his actions weren’t overtly sexual; it was as if he simply wanted to be close to you. With a gentle hand, you brought his face to yours and captured his lips, slower and gentler this time. You needed him to know that you were there, that you wanted him too.

“I can’t–” he mumbled against your lips in between kisses, “–Wait to fuck you.” His words sent a new, dangerous wave of lust straight to your core.

“I don’t remember saying I was going to let you,” you remarked playfully. He pulled away just enough to shoot you a knowing, if not slightly annoyed look and an unbridled giggle burst from your lips at the sight. “Can I have those back now?” you asked with an innocent look, your hand moving towards his pocket.

“No,” he said smacking your hand away, “That’s what you get for being smart.”

“Javier,” you admonished, “I thought you liked my smart mouth.”

“I never said that.”

“You most certainly did,” you said as you pressed another kiss to his lips, hoping to distract him as you reached across his lap, “You said it when I had my smart mouth wrapped around your cock.”

“Nice try.” He grabbed your hand, kissing your palm. He stood and readjusted your chair at the table. “Now get back to work.”

You laughed at the idea. How the hell were you supposed to work after that?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he started to leave.

“Just, um, going to clean up,” he replied, gesturing to his mouth. That wasn’t enough to distract you from the way his other hand adjusted his trousers. “I’ll be right back.”

“I could help you with that,” you offered demurely.

“I’m fine, _compañera_. You were working so hard I just thought you needed a break.” He smiled at you, and once again, you found yourself wondering how you were lucky enough to have met him. You let your eyes roam over him and took in his now slightly disheveled state, giving a breathy laugh at the sight of his tousled hair, ruffled by your own hands. “What are you snickering at?”

“Nothing. I just–” you started, searching for the right words, “I just really like this.”

The two of you made each other feel good. _Really fucking good_. And not just physically. You’d all but forgotten that you still couldn’t define what was happening between you and Javier. At that moment, perfectly blissed out and still riding the high he’d given you, you didn’t particularly care.

Javier considered you for a long moment before he mumbled a small _me too_ that made your heart swell. Then he pointed an accusing finger at your mess of papers. “Break’s over. That book’s not going to write itself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier have a rather unconventional first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one’s life.
> 
> We are officially 10 chapters in! That's amazing to me and what's even more astonishing is that fact that all of you are reading along and joining me on this adventure. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement. There's a small chance I won't be able to update this story next Sunday – life is a little hectic at the moment – but I'm going to try my best because I really do just enjoy writing and sharing this story with you. I wanted to put that out there just in case, but you can always check my [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/) for updates. I do, however, think you're going to enjoy this chapter meanwhile...
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, fingering, praise kink, maybe edging, definitely dirty talk. Alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.
> 
> Edit: Apparently, Ao3 ate a significant portion of this chapter somewhere in between copying it over from my word doc and posting it. So, this has been edited to actually include their date at the end! Thank you for your patience and thank you to my wonderful reader Maddy who pointed it out to me 💕

Much like the last couple of years, you spent Halloween trick-or-treating with Bev and her children through their neighborhood a short drive from campus. Her family always welcomed you with open arms. Especially during holidays that you would’ve otherwise spent alone. And with two elementary-aged kids – dressed as the red and pink Power Rangers, respectively, and rambunctious toddler enjoying her first Halloween walking, she’d definitely needed your help keeping them all in sight after her husband was called into work. 

After trekking what you thought felt like half of Los Angeles and then consuming an inordinate amount of candy, the kids crashed – _hard_. Even Sunny was exhausted from chasing them around all evening and had fallen asleep at the foot of Emma’s bed. She was wonderful with all three kids but seemed to hold a special affection for the youngest. That left you and Bev sprawled out on her living room couch sharing a bottle of wine and digging through their buckets of candy for anything that looked like chocolate. Between your extra-curricular activities and her ongoing job interview, the two of you had missed most of your shared lunches the past week and had quite a lot to catch up on.

“How’s your little Javier problem going?” she asked as she bit into a full-sized Milky Way bar. She’d claimed it as her own, insisting the kids only needed the mini versions.

“It’s not really a problem anymore,” you said, hiding behind your wine glass as you took a long drink of merlot. 

Your friend narrowed her eyes at you, but her grin betrayed her. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I’m not really sure what’s going on, but we might’ve hooked up this past week. On a couple of different occasions.” 

“What the fuck?” she whisper-shouted at you, mindful of the sleeping kids a few rooms away. “Why am I just hearing about this now? Why wasn’t I informed of this days ago? Tell me everything.”

You filled Bev in on what happened in your office the past weekend and then again, in his office, and finally, the events of your last trip to the library, sparing the intimate details. Her jaw practically became unhinged as she gawked at you, quietly listening to the censored version of your story.

“Oh my– Is that why you stood me up for lunch on Monday? You said you had a meeting. You dirty lying slut.”

“It didn’t seem like an appropriate conversation for lunch on campus,” you attempted through your laughter, “And based on your reaction, I’d say I was right.”

“That’s a terrible excuse!” She smacked you with one of the decorative couch pillows. “Especially considering the fact that you’re _fucking_ your way across said campus.” 

“I know! I don’t what’s gotten into me.” One minute you were embarrassed because the librarian caught the two of you kissing and the next you were enthusiastically letting Javier go down on you in that same library. Your eyes widened as you shook your head at yourself. “I’ve lost my goddamned mind, Bev.”

“Personally, I like this side of you. Being bad suits you.” She reached for the bottle of red and refilled both of your glasses. “You just needed the right person to bring it out of you.”

“He–” you made a sound halfway in between a sigh and a laugh, “He brings _something_ out of me. I’ve enjoyed sex in the past, but it’s never been anything spectacular. Nothing I couldn’t do better myself. This is– It’s already the best I’ve ever had, and we haven’t actually had sex yet.”

“Bet you feel dumb for turning him down constantly for the past two months.”

“I’ll admit that I was needlessly stubborn the last couple of weeks,” you paused so she could make the expected exasperated face, “But I like where we are now. I never have to be anyone else but myself when I’m with him. Even during sex, he makes me feel so comfortable.” You let out a little sigh. “I just really like him, Bev.”

“I know, babe. You’ve got that _Javier_ look on again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All I have to do is mention his name and you get all¬–” she sighed dramatically and batted her lashes at you, “Like that.”

“Please tell me that’s not true.”

“It most definitely is. Don’t worry. It’s adorable.”

“Oh, God,” you groaned and let your head hit the back of the couch. 

The two of you moved on to other topics, chatting and drinking well into the night until the distant sound of the garage door opening signaled Bev’s husband’s late return. 

“I’m so sorry I missed the whole night,” he said, kissing Bev before crouching down next to her seat on the couch. You noted the sincere look in his eye. You never saw much of Henry, but he was always kind to you, and, most importantly, he really loved Bev.

“We really missed you,” Bev said sadly, “But they understood. Did you at least manage to avoid another crisis in corporate law?”

“We’ll see on Monday,” Henry sighed, and Bev ran a soothing hand across his cheek. “Did the little gremlins have fun?”

“Oh yeah,” she emphasized, “They decided they hauled in enough candy to last them until Christmas so they’re happy. And they always love when their favorite aunt comes over.”

“Yes,” he started as he turned to you, “Thank you for taking my place tonight.”

“Happy to help. Besides, I was more than fairly compensated,” you quipped as you popped another bite-sized candy in your mouth.

He chuckled before bidding you a goodnight and politely excusing himself to go check on the kids.

“He always does that,” Bev said softly. “Whenever he gets home late, he still tucks them in and kisses them goodnight. I try not to give him a hard time for missing things because I know he feels guilty, but it’s like this on weeknight’s too.” She tried to shrug it off, but you could tell she was upset. You set your wine glass on the coffee table and pushed the pile of candy wrappers between the two of you aside so that you could give your friend a hug. 

“Have you told him that?”

“No. His job is stressful enough,” she said as she rested her head on your shoulder.

“Work isn’t everything,” you said, echoing the simple piece of advice she’d been trying to instill in you for years.

“That’s funny coming from you.”

“Don’t complain. I’m finally listening.”

“You? Prioritize life over work? Javier must be giving it to you real good.”

“Bev!” you scolded and pushed her off of you. She slumped back against the couch, snickering at your scandalized expression. 

“Don’t yell at me,” she said in between breaths, “I’m wine drunk and sad – I shouldn’t be held accountable for anything I say.”

“Don’t be sad. You and Henry make a good team. Even when things are tough.”

“Yeah, we do.” She looked at you a little more soberly. “I hope Javier can be that person for you. I haven’t seen you two together, but I like how happy you are.”

“Thank you, Bev.”

“Just promise me one thing.” She leaned forward and you thought she was going to say something serious. You should’ve known better with her. “Fuck him the first chance you get.”

“Oh my God, you are drunk,” you laughed as you hauled her to her feet and pushed her in the direction of the bedrooms, “Go to bed. I’m done with you.” 

… . …

The excitement over the holiday and the stress of exams that had buzzed across campus the past couple of weeks had finally faded, and things felt quite normal on that first Monday of the new month. Even the heat simmered down just enough so that it actually felt like a crisp fall morning. The cool marine layer rolling in from the Pacific even meant that you’d needed to pair one of your thicker blazers with your normal blouse and skirt combination – happily so, after the long, hot summer.

As you walked into your lecture hall, perfectly prepared to introduce an exciting new topic to your students, you saw Javier for the first time since the previous Thursday when he’d walked you home after the incident at the library, as you’d come to affectionately refer to it. 

_“Do you want to come up?” you asked as you traced the curve of his jaw with your fingertip, your position on your building’s stoop allowing you to look down at him._

_“I think I’ve distracted you enough for one night, hermosa,” he said, “I know you have an early morning tomorrow.”_

_“Are you always such a gentleman?” you said with a mock pout. You wound an arm around his broad shoulders, letting him support you with his hands at your hips as you pressed your forehead against his._

_“No,” he rasped before searing a kiss against your lips. You didn’t quite believe him. “The next time you ask, I’m going to say yes.”_

_“You better.”_

_You felt the loss of his heat as soon as the two of you parted. And as you watched his receding figure, you brought a hand to your lips, still burning from his touch._

As you approached the podium, you watched Javier explain the correct answer to a midterm question to two of his students while he hurriedly wrote out something. He afforded you one quick glance, and although his cool façade never slipped, you caught that subtle spark in his eyes.

“Let’s talk in my office,” he said to the students as he gathered his things, “My colleague needs her classroom.”

The two of you had come quite a long way since the first week of the quarter, and you offered him a small smile of gratitude as he passed you. The students followed him out and you took your place behind the podium, ready to start your lecture for the room full of waiting students when you found a folded piece of paper sitting squarely in the middle of the stand. Apparently, whatever Javier had been writing was for you.

_I thought about you when I touched myself last night. Wasn’t nearly as good as the real thing._

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumbled to yourself. An image of Javier stroking his thick length, moaning out your name, pushed its way to the front of your mind. Your face warmed at the thought and a nearly unbearable heat settled deep in your core.

Maybe he wasn’t a _perfect gentleman_. But you liked that about him.

Still, you silently cursed the infuriating man and took a few calming breaths before you even considered starting your lecture.

Before you lifted your head to address the class, you carefully tucked his second note into the sleeve of your binder. Right next to the first.

… . …

Later than afternoon when you were finally free of classes and meetings, you pushed open the half-closed door to Javier’s office only to find him sitting at his desk with an exasperated expression on his face as his least favorite person on campus chatted him up.

“So, anyway, the bar’s over on Wilshire if you wanna grab a drink with some of the guys.” You tried to stifle your laugh with the back of your hand, but it didn’t matter – it was enough to catch Javier’s attention. Something like relief washed over his features as he looked around Sheffield’s looming figure to where you stood in his doorway.

“Sorry, man,” he answered, “I have plans tonight.”

“Maybe another day,” Sheffield conceded. He must’ve missed Javier’s low mumble of _doubt it_ because he just kept talking, his gruff voice filling the office space. “It’s always a good time. A lot of guys from the department drop by.”

“It’s a veritable boys club.” You said it under your breath but didn’t mind in the slightest that your brutish co-worker heard you. Which was why you were never invited. 

Sheffield finally noticed you and stopped short, sparing everyone from whatever he was going to say next as he eyed you. “What do you want?” he demanded brusquely. 

“Well, I didn’t come to Peña’s office looking for you,” you retorted, “That’s for damn sure.”

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise brushed past you without his usual scathing remark. 

“ _Qué cabrón_ ,” Javier said as he ran a hand over his face. “Thank you for getting rid of him.”

“It’s basically my superpower; that man can’t stand to be in the same room with me.” 

“Well he’s an idiot,” he grumbled. His expression shifted as he looked you over. With dark eyes locked on you, he pushed his chair back and stood, taking a moment to shrug his suit jacket off his shoulders and toss it over the back of his chair before he walked around his desk. He leaned back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. The relaxed pose gave off an air of casual interest, but you had your suspicions otherwise. “What brings you to my office, _compañera_?”

“Just following up on your earlier memo,” you said, playing along. “But if you have plans for the evening, I could always come back later,” you simpered, knowing full well he rarely did anything besides work. You closed and locked the heavy wood door before crossing the room to stand directly in front of him.

You watched, waiting for his answer, as he uncuffed his shirtsleeves, slowly and deliberately rolling them to his elbows as if preparing for something serious. However, the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth betrayed his cool demeanor. “You are my plans.”

“Do you think you’re ready for the real thing?” you asked.

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he considered you, eyes trailing over your body in a way you were already all too comfortable with. “Are you?” he challenged. That familiar, volatile electricity coursed through the air. As if it was just waiting for the right spark to set everything off. His gaze dropped to your lips. And then lower. “Do you have any idea how badly I want to fuck you right now?”

“Javier,” you paused for a passing breath. You’d wanted to do this right. Not just another tryst in one of your offices or the library or some other dark corner of the campus. But all that went out the window along with any last hint of inhibition you might’ve been holding on to. “I can’t wait anymore.”

“Me either.” Without further preamble, Javier crushed his mouth to yours. Days – _weeks_ – of pent up desire poured out of him as his lips moved urgently against yours, and his hands pulled at your clothing, rucking your blouse in an attempt to draw your body against his. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, holding him to you as you kissed. 

Sometimes it still felt so surreal; somehow, without ever meaning to, the man you’d hated more than just about anyone else a few short months ago became one of your closest friends. And now, someone you physically craved in practically in every waking moment and in your wildest dreams.

“God,” you huffed out as you broke away for air, “I never thought we’d end up like this.” Needing to remove some of his layers, you worked at his tie, struggling with the knot. He batted your hands away, quickly pulling it to the side to loosen it before undoing it with practiced ease and letting the offending article fall to the floor without a care. He brought your hands back to his chest, encouraging you to touch him, and his hands brought your hips toward his.

“I did– Knew we would.” Javier’s lips chased yours even as he spoke, his staccato words only escaping in between indelicate kisses. “But I never– Never hated you like you hated me.”

You pulled away to level him with a playfully stern look. “You called me a bitch one of the first times we spoke.” 

He at least had the decency to look apologetic for a second, his head tilting adorably to the side. “I did, but I stand by that. I fucking love that about you.” In one smooth movement, his mouth never leaving yours, he spun you around and sat you on his oversized desk, taking his place in between your spread legs. “You don’t take anyone’s shit.”

“I put up with you,” you reminded him. 

Javier gave a breathy laugh against your cheek as his lips moved downwards, ghosting over the column of your neck. “Don’t know why,” he mumbled. 

Any retort you might’ve had died on your tongue as he mouthed at that sensitive spot right above your hammering pulse. Your eyes closed and your head rolled back, granting him full access to you, and you reveled in his ministrations. Hell, you didn’t even notice that he had completely unbuttoned your blouse until he pried your hands from his chest where you were grasping at his otherwise crisp white shirtfront in order to strip you of the satin layer. 

He quickly resumed his exploration, a hand palming you through the lace that still covered your chest while the other slid a single bra strap over your shoulder. His mouth continued its descent as he peppered kisses along your sternum. He laved and sucked at the swell of your unattended breast, sure to leave marks in his wake. For once, you didn’t even care. You preened at the idea of Javier marking you, leaving little reminders behind of what he’d done to your body. Your hands returned to his hair, musing his dark locks as you tugged slightly. That seemed to only encourage him further and he sank his teeth into your sink, gentle enough not to hurt but with more than enough pressure to leave intentions on your breast.

Before he could move to the other, you pulled him upwards and brought his mouth back to yours, claiming it as your own. As much as you enjoyed the attention he was giving you, it wasn’t quite fair – you desperately wanted to touch and taste him too. 

You kissed him fervently and resumed your earlier task, nimble fingers flicking open the buttons of his shirt and untucking it from his trousers. You didn’t even bother to take it off; that seemed like too much work. Instead you let it hang open your hands as you luxuriated in the feel of him beneath your palms. Your lips followed, trailing kisses along his chest. Javier was strong, his body surely toned from years of difficult work, but he was still surprisingly soft under your touch. Perhaps especially around the middle, but you attributed that to age and his taste in alcohol. Meanwhile, he indulged you, waiting patiently as you explored his body for the first time.

And yet, it wasn’t enough. 

As you watched your fingertips caress the bare skin of his torso, your head laid right above his beating heart, you realized forlornly that you wanted to feel all of him pressed against you, skin to skin so that there wasn’t a single inch of space separating you. A quick fuck in his office would never be enough for you. Not as far as Javier Peña was concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” It was as if he could sense your frustration. Sometimes you wished he couldn’t read you so well.

“Nothing,” you answered. You attempted to brush it off, but he stopped you when you tried to kiss him again. Based on the skeptical look on his face alone you knew you weren’t getting away that easily. “I just–” you stumbled, not wanting to voice the thought. You didn’t like how it made you seem needy when you weren’t even sure if your strange affair would ever move past the confines of the school’s hallowed halls. So, you diverted him. “You’re quiet today.”

He pulled away even further, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean.”

“Usually you– Well, I don’t know about usually since we’ve only done this a couple of times. I guess I really don’t know what you’re _usually_ like,” you rambled. You tried to readjust your bra strap, suddenly a bit self-conscious, but he stopped you, pulling it back down and then sliding his hand up the slope of your neck to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“You want me to talk?” he asked, “Is that it?”

You nodded quietly before trying to amend your answer, “But if you don’t–”

“I liked it too,” he insisted, moving closer again. “I like how wet it makes you.” Something dark flickered across his eyes and you knew what ever came next would be more than you bargained for. 

“What do you want to hear? That you’re fucking gorgeous?” he asked, mouth moving against your neck before his teeth scraped at your skin. “Do you want me to tell you how smart you are?” An unsteady exhale fell from your lips as he placed a kiss on your shoulder. “How you’re the best fucking professor here?” He licked a hot stripe across your collarbone, prying a moan from your throat. “How I can’t stop thinking about you?” He pressed his lips to yours again.

“Oh fuck– Fuck” you babbled as a cold shiver rushed over your body, “Javier.”

You were hit with so many different emotions at his praise – some you couldn’t even place. You delighted in it. Felt proud that he thought so highly of you. But you were also surprised at just how easily he’d reduced you to a whimpering mess ready to take him in any way. He aroused a strange, heady need to do anything for him from deep within you.

“You like this don’t you? Like hearing how fucking amazing I think you are.” Javier ran a hand up your thigh, under the hem of your skirt, and into your soaked panties. “Fuck, baby. You _really_ like this.”

“Yeah,” you admitted freely, your voice cracking over the word. 

He patted your side, signaling you to life your hips and you readily complied. He bunched the fabric of your skirt up around your waist and all but ripped off your panties, flinging them haphazardly over his shoulder as soon as they were off your legs. He spread your thighs open, eying your dripping pussy, before his eyes returned to yours.

“What else do you want? You want my fingers?” He easily pressed two long digits into your cunt, fucking you open with them. “You want my mouth again?”

“No,” you whined, shaking your head.

“Say it. I’ll give you anything.”

“I want you to fuck me. Please, Javier, I want it so bad.”

“I know you do,” he said low as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Fucking teasing me all the time but I know you want it just as bad as me.” A third finger joined the other two, stretching you out deliciously. But even with three thick fingers filling you, you wanted more. You needed him. Impatient, you reached for his belt.

“Relax,” he murmured as he pinned one hand down on the desk next to you. “You’ll get this cock, but not until you’re good and ready.” 

A fresh wave of arousal crashed over you and threatened to drown you at his words. He was so determined to make you comfortable, and as he worked you with his fingers, you had a whole new appreciation for the way he always prioritized your pleasure. Not to mention how fucking hot that was. You felt yourself cresting higher and higher until–

Just as you were about to cum, your orgasm tantalizingly within reach, he pulled out of you.

“What the fuck?” you huffed out. 

He grinned wolfishly. “I think you’re ready.”

“I hate you,” you hissed venomously. All bark and no bite. You were completely at his mercy – _and he knew it_.

“No, you don’t,” Javier said confidently. And then his face fell. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom.”

“I have contraception covered. And I’m clean – just went last week,” you admitted with a laugh.

“So did I.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Had to make sure before I fucked you. I’m clean, baby.” 

“That is so hot,” you grinned as you pulled him closer by his lapels. “Then what are you waiting for? I need you inside of me, Javier.”  
There was an excited glint to his eyes as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his trousers down enough to release his erection, his cock ready and weeping at the head. His fingers prodded your entrance again, spreading your folds as he gathered an obscene amount of your arousal before coating his length with it. You were sure you’d never been so wet in your life. “Yeah, you’re ready.”

He pulled you to the edge of the desk so that your thighs bracketed his hips. Your hands fell to his chest, attempting to steady yourself, as he lined his tip with your entrance. The anticipation was _killing you_ , but then his brown eyes found yours once more, silently waiting for your consent before he entered you. You gave an encouraging nod and he pushed his thick cock between your folds.

Throwing a hand over your mouth at the last second, you quieted the lewd moan at the feeling of being stuffed by him that threatened to reveal your precarious situation to anyone outside of his office.

Javier chuckled darkly at you as he pulled out only to work himself in even deeper, tearing another muffled cry from you. “You always make the prettiest noises for me.”

“Not here,” you reminded him. 

“I know. Next time–” He cut himself off with a slew of curse as he sheathed fully himself inside you. “Fuck– You feel so fucking good.”

“Javi,” you mewled, not quite knowing where the diminutive came from, but completely unable to stop the two syllables that floated off your lips. “Can I– Is that okay?”

“Yes,” he grunted as he moved inside you, his arms wrapping around you to bring you closer, “Say my fucking name, baby.”

“Oh, Javi. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted as he rolled his hips against yours. The soft curls at the base of his length brushed enticingly against your clit and his cock repetitively hit that elusive spot that always drove you wild. With the way he fucked you, you weren’t going to last.

A blinding white light blurred your vision as your orgasm tore through you, practically splitting you in two. And the only word you could remember, the singular thought in your otherwise blank mind, tumbled out like a prayer.

 _Javi_.

… . …

Javier slowed his pace as you rode out your climax, hoping to draw it out as long as he could. It was a task made difficult by the feeling of your pulsing cunt contracting around him. But the slow rock of his hips was for his benefit as much as yours – he wasn’t ready to finish. Wasn’t anywhere near done with you yet. 

He distinctly remembered the look on your face when you tried to relieve him of the so-called burden of bringing you to completion the first time he touched you. He couldn’t help but compare it to the sight of you at that moment: a euphoric expression softening your features as you came down from your high. It incensed him then and now that no one had given you everything you deserved before. Probably hadn’t even noticed that you’d been left unsatisfied and wanting. It possessed him with the need to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. It didn’t matter that he’d made you cum before. This was different. This was the first time he got to fuck you.

And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to fuck you properly. 

Your arms slipped from their place around his shoulders, but he caught you before you could slump backwards. With one sweeping motion, he swiped everything littering the worktop – papers, folders, writing utensils, a book or two – off the desk and onto the floor so that he could lay you back.

“Professor,” you chided with a breathless laugh. Your cheeky use of his new title sent a shiver he wasn’t expecting down his spine. “You’re making a mess of your office.”

“And you’re making a mess on my cock,” he said huskily. You hummed your pleasure at his response. He still didn’t know where such vocalizations came from. You just brought out a side of him that said things like that. He decided not to dwell on what that might’ve meant. Nor did he give a second thought to the pile of papers strewn across the floor. He was too focused on savoring the smile that graced your lips. 

“ _Hermosa_ ,” he sighed, “Look at you.” You were absolutely radiant; sprawled on his desk, eyes half-lidded with unbridled desire, still blissed out from your first climax with his cock buried within you. He ran his palms over your feverish body, mapping your dips and curves with firm hands as he squeezed your breasts, hips, thighs – any part of you that you would give him. He tried to ignore his frustration at the clothes still covering parts of you he wanted bared to him. But it almost didn’t matter. You overwhelmed each of his senses: the sight of you laid half-bare beneath him, the taste of your kisses, the smell of sex permeating the office, the sound of your soft cries of his name, the feel of your skin against his. The pleasure you wrought from him was unparalleled. He couldn’t remember it ever feeling that good. He still wasn’t sure what he did to deserve to fuck you, but he wanted to give you _everything_. 

And you took it all.

Resting on his forearms, he caged you in against the desk as he withdrew himself before driving his cock back into you, setting a steady pace as his hips snapped against yours. Your hands dipped beneath his open shirt to roam the expanse of his back and pull his body even closer to yours. And as you writhed underneath him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place and letting him fuck even deeper into your wet cunt. He relished the way your velvety walls enveloped him every time he plunged into you, each stroke bringing him closer to his own release.

“I want you–” he grunted against your lips in between thrusts, “–To cum on it again.”

“Javi, I don’t need–”

“What did I tell you?” He watched you think, racking your brain to figure out what he was referring to. “Did I not make myself clear when I had you fucking yourself on my fingers? Or coming on my face at the fucking library?” He rammed into you hard and it must’ve jostled something to the front of that brilliant mind of yours.

“My pleasure is yours,” you practically sobbed.

“ _Good girl_ ,” he praised, pulling a delirious whimper from you as you clenched around him. He filed that reaction away for later. “Now let me take care of you.” 

“Oh–” you nodded eagerly, “–Please.”

He licked the pads of his fingers and slipped a hand between the two of you, finding your clit aching with need as he thrusted into you in earnest. “Give me one more, _compañera_ ,” he said through a strangled breath. 

Javier rubbed tight circles around your sensitive bud until your entire body stiffened around him, your grip on him turning vice like. Your blunt nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, eliciting a sharp, sweet pain as your back arched off the table. “I’m coming,” you choked, words catching on your own silent cry. He covered your mouth with his, kissing you as you reached your peak and capturing any errant sounds that escaped you.

“Guess what, Javier?” you cooed against his lips as you came back into yourself. You cupped his face, forcing him to look into your dark, determined eyes. “If my pleasure is yours, then your pleasure belongs to me.”

“Fuck yes,” he growled. 

“I want you to cum for me.”

“Where?” he gasped, quickly losing any semblance of control he had to you, “Tell me where, baby.”

“Inside. On me. I don’t fucking care,” you said through gritted teeth, “Just give it to me, Javi. I want it.”

He righted himself with a growl, bringing you with him as he undulated his errant hips against yours a few more times. With a guttural noise from deep in his throat, he finally succumbed to his release, moaning your name as he painted the inside of your pussy with his cum. 

Without even bothering to pull out, he cradled you to his heaving chest, pressing his nose against your temple, as he attempted to recover. He had no idea how long the two of you stayed like that, simply breathing each other in, but when he spoke his voice was hoarse from disuse. “I’m not going four days without you again,” he said before he could think better of it, “Not after that.”

“It hasn’t even been four days, Javi,” you corrected lightly. You pulled away just enough to look up at him without entangling yourself from his grasp. “You should’ve invited me over last night. Hell, I would’ve liked to just watch.”

“You can watch any time you like – just ask,” he drawled, his moustache quirking up as he smirked at you. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You hummed noncommittedly, but he knew the real answer just by the look in your eyes. You were quiet for a minute before answering his real question more seriously. “You don’t have to go without me, Javi. I want– God, I want you all the time too.”

He brushed his knuckles against the swell of your cheek. “That’s what I like to hear.”

A few minutes later, after he’d helped you clean up and redress, you stood before him, securing each button on his shirt as he tucked the hem back into his trousers and buckled his belt. You stopped a few buttons shy, and, after you adjusted the collar to your satisfaction, you looked up at him with a soft smile that he could only describe as charming. 

“Thank you,” he said around the lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure how you always pulled that sort of reaction from him with the most innocent seeming actions. “Are you good?”

“Um, no.” You squirmed a little as you looked around the small room. “What happened to my underwear?” you asked quietly.

Javier scanned the office, noting the mess of papers and books on the floor he’d have to deal with later, but came up short. He turned back to the desk where he’d taken you just moments before and made a gesture as if throwing something over his shoulder, winning a rather spirited laugh from you. Following the motion, he found the lacy panties hanging off a book on one of his shelves housing his growing personal library. 

“Wow,” you deadpanned, “I never thought I’d get to see Agent Peña in action.”

“I get results,” he retorted as he held out the garment for you to step into, sliding it back up your legs before readjusting your skirt. He stood to his full height again and the two of you regarded each other for a long moment. You seemed just as unsure of what to do next as he did. This had never been an issue when he was fucking informants or a random woman he picked up at some bar. “Do you want to grab something to eat?” he tried.

“Oh,” you sighed, and your face fell. He immediately hated himself for saying anything. “I really want to,” you rushed to correct, “But I promised a colleague I would go to her lecture tonight. She studies women’s political history, so we work together sometimes. Interdepartmental collaboration, you know? Anyway, she’s giving a talk on her new book and I promised I would attend weeks ago–” 

“Of course,” he said, stopping your unnecessary explanation, “I understand.”

“But– Maybe you could come with me. We could eat after,” you started hesitantly, “But only if you want to.” Your pearly white teeth sunk into your kiss swollen lip as you waited for his answer.

“Are you asking me on a date, _compañera_?” he teased, purposefully ignoring the fact that he’d asked you to get dinner with him moments ago.

You shrugged. “I hardly think attending a lecture on a Monday night counts as a date.”

“I don’t know, sounds like your perfect date.” He pressed what he hoped was a reassuring kiss to your lips. “I’d love to go with you.”

“Really?” you asked as you affectionately brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead and back into place. He nodded and a coy smile pulled at your lips. You’d just been unabashedly spread out for him on his desk, but, for whatever reason, that made you shy. “Okay,” you said quietly, “Let’s go.”

… . …

You and Javier made it to the lecture with a few minutes to spare. There was a sizable turn out, but you slipped quietly into a fairly empty row in the back of the hall unnoticed. The lights dimmed momentarily, and the room quieted as one of the other history professors welcomed the audience and introduced her colleague. Your friend took the stage shortly after and expertly launched into a lecture on the development of women’s participation in electoral politics in the United States following passage of the Nineteenth Amendment.

It was a topic adjacent to yours, and you were so focused on the presentation that you almost didn’t notice Javier reaching toward you. For a brief moment, you thought he might try to start something again. You wouldn’t put it past him – the man had already proved himself insatiable and perfectly willing to engage in foreplay wherever he saw fit. 

Instead, he rested his palm atop the back of your hand where it sat on your thigh. He slotted his fingers in between yours and just… held your hand.

Your chest hollowed and your heart threatened to burst against your ribs at the sweet gesture. And for the longest time, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from your perfectly entwined hands. When you finally glanced at Javier, he was already looking at you with a disarmingly soft, curious expression, seemingly watching for your reaction. You offered him a gentle squeeze in return, catching his smile as he returned his attention to the lecture. You did the same with a similar smile dancing on your lips.

It’d been a long time since someone simply held your hand.

You couldn’t remember when it had ever meant so much.

… . …

“This fucking amazing.” Javier said around a mouthful of food. The corn tortillas were filled to the brim and topped with chopped onion and fresh cilantro. All crowded together on a foil-wrapped plate with plenty of lime and radish on the side as well as a little cup of perfectly spicy salsa. He caught you smiling at his reaction. Upon seeing that he was enjoying his food, you followed suit, squeezing a lime wedge over your tacos before taking your first bite from the similar platter of food you held in your lap.

“Honestly, you’ve never really been to Los Angeles if you haven’t eaten tacos from a sketchy truck. Although, the convenience store parking lot is not exactly ideal for a, um, a date,” you said, gesturing to the less than romantic location with an apologetic laugh.

After the lecture ended and you’d enthusiastically congratulated your friend – Javier had decided the other professor was in fact your friend and a gifted copy of her new book with a personalized inscription sat next to you to prove it ¬– you’d led him a few blocks away from campus to a taco truck you knew always set up on Sunset Boulevard at that time with the promise of some of the best tacos in the city. The unconventional dinner spot didn’t bother him in the slightest; the food was delicious, and the company was even better. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with you on a cinder block wall separating the small parking lot from the busy street was strangely serene. And with the glow of the orange and pink sunset painting the sky behind you in soft pastels, slowly giving way to a deep violet and casting a beautiful glow against your skin, Javier couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

“This is perfect,” he assured you. “Thank you for making sure I have an authentic Los Angeles experience.”

“No problem. I could give you a whole list of quintessential activities. Most of it would probably be food related though,” you said, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“I’d like that. But only if you promise to do those things with me.”

“Javier,” you started, resting your plate against your knees. The hesitation was clear in your voice and he knew what was coming next. You shifted, turning yourself towards him to face him properly. “What is this?”

“You tell me.” He wanted, needed you to say it, because he didn’t have the word for it. The last time he tried to commit to a woman, he’d left her alone at the altar. Hell, he didn’t even know if she made it to the altar because he hadn’t even been able to show up that day. Now, he didn’t even know where to begin with anything resembling a relationship. “This can be whatever you want it to be.”

“I don’t know,” you started, and some uncomfortable emotion shot through him. “I know I like being with you. I like what we’re doing now and I like doing what we did earlier.” More quietly, you added, “I want to be the only one you do that with.” He could see the worry in your eyes even as you refuse to meet his gaze. 

“You’re the only one,” Javier swore. He couldn’t remember the last time he said that, let alone meant it.

“You too,” you affirmed. He was surprised how badly he’d needed to hear it.

“I like you, too, _compañera_. We always have a good time together.”

“Then maybe we can just be together?” It was a question. He could hear it in the lilt of your words. “Nothing has to change. We don’t have to call it anything if you don’t want to. We can just keep doing what we’re doing. No pressure, you know?”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth as he thought over your words. It wasn’t quite a committed relationship, but it was exclusive. He decided he could do that. He could give that to you. That should’ve been enough for him. _More_ than enough.

“Yeah,” he agreed anyway. You sealed the promise with a light kiss, smiling as you broke away from him and returned to your food. You carried on detailing your list of favorite places to eat in the city and he decided to ignore the pang of sadness in his chest. Luckily, it faded quickly, your quick wit pulling him out of his mind and into the present moment and back to laughing with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Translations  
> Qué cabrón: what a bastard
> 
> ... . ...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I love you all from the bottom of my heart 💗
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier spend an evening out in Los Angeles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First order of business: in a weird turn of events that I still don't understand, a little chunk of chapter ten was deleted before I posted it a couple of weeks ago. So, if you thought their date at the end of the chapter was a little disjointed... that's why. It has since been updated and if you want to check it out, it is basically the last two sections and it's a short read. I'm really sorry that happened and I promise I triple checked this chapter!
> 
> Secondly, I want to thank Grace for making an awesome cv moodboard! It's so pretty and it really inspired me to finish this update. For whatever reason, Ao3 won't let me link the moodboard so I added the full url in the endnotes.
> 
> Thank you for waiting a bit for this chapter. There's a lot of fluff in this one so hopefully that makes up for it. Luckily, life calmed down this past week so I should have more time to write. I seriously can't thank you all enough for supporting this story. My love goes to all of you, forever.
> 
> Oh, and as a disclaimer... a certain Dr. Holloway was not based on a professor I knew in grad school. Nope, definitely not. ~~jk my master’s program inspired 100% of the office drama in this fic lmao~~
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Mild sexual content, allusions to sex. Mild language.

“What is this?” a familiar voice called from behind you.

You turned your head from where you were watching the countdown on the microwave timer, waiting ever so impatiently for your leftovers to reheat, to look over your shoulder. As expected, it was the one and only Javier Peña leaning in the threshold, arms crossed over his chest. “The faculty lounge,” you answered. “No one ever uses it.”

“Clearly,” he said, looking around the dreary room. There was a sad kitchenette and a few empty tables and not much else. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen the door open. I assumed it was a closet.”

“Might as well be,” you digressed as you returned your attention to the microwave. Unsurprisingly, a moment later, you felt a pair of firm hands rest on your hips and a pair of plush lips press against the curve of your neck. “Javier,” you chastised pointlessly.

“What, _hermosa_?” he asked, feigning innocence even as his tongue darted out to lave at your skin. “Seems to me that no one will find us here.”

You’d fallen into a curious situation. The two of you were all over each other every chance you got, but there was never any discussion about it after. Nothing beyond what was tentatively agreed upon a couple weeks ago. 

Nothing else in your friendship had changed. You worked together like normal. You fucked whenever you could – usually something frantic and hurried in one of your offices. And then it was like it never happened.

You assumed he compartmentalized better than you. Or, at worst, it was all he wanted and there wasn’t actually anything to talk about. It wasn’t that you were opposed to something like that… but, with him, it was quickly starting to feel like it wasn’t enough.

At least you were still on top of everything. Hell, if anything, the constant _relief_ was making it easier to get your work done. So, you decided it would have to be enough.

“That depends,” you started, leaning back into his embrace, “Can you keep quiet?”

He responded by sucking harshly on your pulse point, tearing a moan from you. “Can you?” he challenged.

Just as you were about to give in, the microwave dinged, breaking you out of your stupor. You silently cursed him, not for the first time, for being able to instantly distract you like that.

You reached for the handle, but he stopped you, opening and slamming the door shut to silence it himself before turning you around in his arms. “I’m supposed to meet Beverly,” you tried to remind him, already knowing it was futile. You weren’t going anywhere when he was looking at you like that.

His grip on you tightened. “You’re going to be a few minutes late.”

… . …

After practically running across campus, you all but threw yourself onto the bench next to Bev where she’d already started eating her lunch. You felt a little bad because her daily schedule was much less flexible than yours and you knew she enjoyed your shared meals as much as you did. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

Bev eyed you with a look of concern. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well for starters, you look totally flustered, and I think your buttons are off by one–” She rolled her eyes and you hurriedly tried to fix your blouse. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to her salad, piercing a few leaves of spinach on her fork. “Oh, never mind. I figured it out.”

You struggled to offer any sort of sane response. “I– I just can’t help myself around him.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she deadpanned. Or at least she tried to; you could see the hint of a smile she was failing to suppress. “Just so you know, this is the only acceptable reason to be late for lunch from now on.” 

“Noted,” you said with a laugh.

“So where was it today? Your office? The library?” she asked mischievously. When you answered only with an annoyed look, she gasped, “A lecture hall?”

“You never know when to shut up do you?”

“You love me, and you know it,” Bev said, narrowing her eyes at you. “And honestly,” she added under her breath, “I wouldn’t put it past either of you at this point.”

… . …

A couple days later, on a gorgeously sunny Friday in November, you opened your office door only to find Javier poised to knock. His hand fell to his hip as he regarded you. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you did the same. He was wearing another one of those half-buttoned button ups – a soft pink that surprisingly worked on him – tucked into a pair of exceptionally well-fitted jeans. When your eyes traveled back up to his face, you were met with a knowing look. 

“How can I help you, Professor Peña?”

He broke out into a boyish grin, his eyes dark and hungry with undisguised interest. “I think you know.”

The man had no shame. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. And he wanted you. That thought never failed to excite you. “Well, I have a meeting.”

“It’s Friday afternoon. No one’s ever around on Fridays.”

“Rescheduled from earlier this week.” You shrugged nonchalantly even as you tried not to smile as his pout. “Don’t make that face. It shouldn’t take too long. No one wants to be here on a day like today. I can swing by your office after?”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Until then,” you started as you stepped closer to him, letting your lips hover just over his, “I know you have a round of quizzes that didn’t get graded yesterday.”

“Someone was distracting me.” He leaned down to kiss you, but you slipped past him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you called behind you as you let him watch you walk away. 

… . …

“What’s wrong, _compañera_?”

You’d been edgy ever since you joined Javier in his office after your meeting. You’d insisted that he finished his work, claiming you were happy to read while you waited. But as far as he could tell, you hadn’t read a single word. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled. You grimaced as you shook your head. “Office politics. Nothing that concerns you.”

“It’s bothering you,” he countered, “That concerns me.” He stood and walked around the desk, leaning against the edge as he looked down at you.

You considered him for a long moment, your discerning eyes flickering across his face as if you were trying to decide what to tell him. It surprised him; usually you talked freely about your colleagues with him. It was a mutual source of frustration. Eventually, you let out a deflating sigh and finally spoke up. “You know Dr. Holloway, right?”

“That guy that wears the same ugly tweed coat every day?”

“Yeah, him,” you muttered as you closed your book. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you scrunched up your face and spat out your next words as if they were poisoned. “He’s getting tenure.”

Unsure where you were going with things, he prompted you to continue. “That’s bad?”

“Yes,” you said haughtily, crossing your arms over your chest. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised because his tenure committee started the process last year – which was only his second year here, by the way – but I was stupidly holding out hope that they’d deny him.” 

“Why?”

“Well, would you like to know why he left his previous position?”

“Sure,” Javier said hesitantly.

“He got caught sleeping with his students,” you confided quietly, “Which is practically number one on the list of things you shouldn’t do as a professor.”

“How the hell did he get a job here?” he asked incredulously.

“They don’t care,” you snapped, waving your hand around in a gesture he interpreted as an indictment of the entire school. “He’s old friends with the dean of the social sciences and he’s at the top of his field, so everyone just looks the other way. His last university let him resign quietly in disgrace, rather than fire him so that they could protect his reputation,” you elaborated, “As if that should matter. He’s never had a female grad student he was advising finish; they either leave or ask to switch advisors. Which is reprehensible.” 

“Fuck,” he cursed, “And they offered him tenure?” 

“Yup,” you said, emphasizing the single syllable. For a moment, you looked like you were going to add something, but you stopped yourself. There was something else bothering you. Something you weren’t telling him. He could see it in the crease of your brow and the purse of your lips. Before he could ask, you spoke again. “I don’t know why I’m upset. I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. I guess my expectations for people are still too high. It’s just– Sometimes they make it really hard not to become one of those jaded, bitter professors.” 

“That’s not you,” he argued. “You care too much about your work and your students. You’re too good at your job for that. And someone’s gotta hold these assholes to a higher standard.”

“You don’t understand,” you began, “I have no power here. I’m not tenured. I’m not on any of the committees that matter. No one ever listens to me about anything. I¬–” You stopped yourself and looked away from him, letting your gaze fall somewhere on the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m throwing this all on you.” 

“I don’t mind,” he offered truthfully, drawing your eyes back to his. It must’ve been the right thing to say because you reached for his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“Thank you,” you said softly. Almost imperceptibly, you lifted your face toward him, and he knew what you wanted. In just a few short weeks, he’d learned to read your tells. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. After, as you teased your bottom lip with your teeth, you seemed to contemplate something. “How many more quizzes do you have to grade?”

“Ten?” he guessed. “Then I’m all yours.” 

“Okay. I like the sound of that,” you said. “Get back to work.”

“Are you going to sulk some more?”

You made an annoyed humming sound. “Maybe a little.”

“Come do it over here.” Javier gestured for you to stand before pulling your chair around to his side of the desk. You laughed at him even as you obliged him and took your seat. He thought you might’ve looked a little bit happier. 

Just as he picked up his pen, you kicked off your flats and propped your feet up in his lap. As he glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye, finding you smirking at him over your book, he decided you looked much happier. He rested a hand on your ankle, thumb idly stroking you through your tights, and forced himself to resume grading.

Of course, you noticed the moment that he finished his work and filed away the graded quizzes. Feeling bold, you trailed your foot down his stomach to his crotch. Lost in his own mind, he let you touch him like that for a minute, his dick twitching with interest as he decided what he wanted. He wanted you – that much wasn’t anything new. But he wanted something more. Wanted to give you what you really deserved from him. 

When he finally glanced over at you, his confusion must’ve been immediately evident because you started to pull away. “Sorry–”

“Don’t be,” he said, stopping you with a hand on your ankle.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just– I don’t want to fuck you on this desk again,” he said, shaking his head at you. There was something curious about your expression as you waited for him to continue. “There’s somewhere I want to take you. I think you’ll like it.”

“Your place?” you asked, slightly amused.

“No, but I like how your mind works,” he teased with a smile of his own. “I was thinking dinner.”

“Really?” you asked, perking up in your seat.

“Yes, really. Now let’s go.” 

… . …

A little over an hour later, Javier was leaning against the front end of his car as he waited outside your building. You’d insisted on running home to check on Sunny. And, he assumed, to change out of your work clothes. Of course, he might’ve gone back to his apartment to freshen up and splash on a little cologne as well. 

He was staring off down the street, watching the palm trees silhouetted by the sunset sway in the breeze, when the sound of a door closing behind him caught his attention. His eyes found you and he couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to.

Pushing his gold tinted aviator up onto his head, he had to take a breath just take you in – and collect himself. Dressed in a figure-flattering black dress that left just enough to his imagination in the best way possible and a pair of matching strappy heels, you were nothing short of stunning. And dozen other words he couldn’t think of at the moment. He had a hard time believing that it was for him. Finally coming back to his senses, he met you on the last step, holding out a hand to you. 

“Damn,” he said, the word little more than a single breath. And, because he just couldn’t help himself, he brought your joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to the back of yours. That simple act brought a beaming smile to your face.

“You clean up pretty good yourself, Javier,” you gushed as you kissed him. Somehow, that already felt so casual and easy and he loved it.

“I’m rethinking dinner,” he muttered as he looked you over again.

“Oh, no.” You shook your head at him as you pulled him toward his car. “You promised me food.”

“I’m beginning to think that might be the way to your heart, _hermosa_ ,” he joked as he opened the door for you before climbing in the driver’s side. 

“Is that what you’re going for?”

“What?” he asked as he shifted the car into drive and pulled out into traffic. 

“My heart.” He didn’t say anything at first, but he definitely hit the brakes a little harder than necessary at the red light. Glancing over to you, he found you smirking at him from the passenger seat. “I’m just teasing you, Javi.” 

“Very funny,” he tried, his retort falling flat to his own ears. 

… . …

Javier took you to dinner at a cozy restaurant in Los Feliz. It wasn’t anything fancy – nothing that didn’t fit you both – but it was certainly a step up from any meal or round of drinks you’d shared previously. When you asked him how he found it, he tried to brush it off, but you eventually coaxed the truth out of him. Apparently, he’d solicited recommendations from the few people he knew in the city for somewhere small and local that would hold up to your standards for amazing, authentic food. If that was his goal, you decided he’d succeeded spectacularly, and you told him so with a genuine smile.

You also liked the idea that he’d put serious thought into where he wanted to take you, even before the opportunity presented itself. But you tried not to read too much into that. 

Sat at a small table for two with a single candle flickering between you, it was quiet enough to carry on the easy conversation you’d come to associate with him. He answered all of your questions and always responded with a few of his own for you, never one to talk about himself longer than he had to. You were especially happy that the change in scenery didn’t affect your usual banter. Javier, unsurprisingly, was as flirtatious as ever.

It felt like a real, proper date, and it was practically perfect in every way.

And when he reached across the table to lace his fingers with yours, you let yourself believe that it was real. That it wasn’t just two friends who happened to find frequent release in each other sharing a meal. You knew that was what he wanted. It was what you told yourself you wanted, too. So, you stuffed another forkful of food into your mouth to keep yourself from saying anything about it.

After dinner, you directed him a few streets over and he, albeit a little reluctantly, allowed you to drag him across the grounds of Griffith Park toward the infamous observatory. As it did every night, the art deco-inspired building sat upon it’s hill overlooking the city, brilliantly illuminated in white light. 

“A planetarium?” he asked, his voice flat and full of skepticism. 

“You told me I could take you on the grand tour of Los Angeles.” He stopped walking behind you and your clasped hands halted your own forward progress. “Relax, Javi,” you said with a laugh, “We’re not going in. Not only is it a little late, but it’s generally meant for a significantly younger crowd. Although, the big telescopes are pretty cool. But that’s only open to the public on certain days.”

“Another time then,” he drawled, but you could feel the sarcasm slipping as it was replaced by something a little more sincere. 

“Maybe. If you stop being so stubborn,” you goaded, earning yourself an exasperated eye roll. You suspected that after years of arduous work in what you could only imagine were some of the most stressful conditions, he didn’t quite know how to relax, beyond a few choice indulgences. This was probably a bit different for him.

“Why are we here, _compañera_?” he asked, clearly trying to humor you.

“Have a little faith. Now, follow me.” When you pulled him forward again, he relented. 

Together, you made your way across the manicured lawn and around the observatory, until you came to your personal favorite spot. It was a little lookout point jutting out over the hills and graciously free of the few other people milling about at the late hour. “This is why we’re here. I think this has to be one of the best views of the city. It’s just…breathtaking.”

Before you, the Los Angeles basin was a sprawling expanse of golden lights that stopped only where the land met the ocean. From there, you could practically see the entire city, noticeably defined by the few dozen skyscrapers that made up the downtown area and streaks of red brake lights on freeways cutting across the grid of streets. And on that generously clear night, standing high above the city, you could even see the stars above as they twinkled around an oversized full moon.

As beautiful as it was, you only needed a cursory glance at the familiar sight. You were much more concerned with the glint of the city lights as they were reflected in the dark eyes of the man beside you. You waited for his reaction as Javier’s gaze danced across the landscape, a disbelieving sigh falling from his parted lips.

“Okay, I get it now,” he said quietly. “This is– This is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is,” you agreed, grinning and still unable to pull your stare away from his profile. Until he turned to you with a crooked smile. You quickly returned your attention to the city, ignoring your warming cheeks as you pointed out toward the hills to your right. “The, um, the university is one of those clusters of lights over there.”

“Is that so?” he asked, sounded completely disinterested. He shifted closer, placing a hand on the small of your back to keep you in place. You chanced a glance at him, and he grinned at you with one of those perfect smiles that crinkled the corners of his eyes. You forgot your momentary embarrassment as you let yourself lean against him. You hardly needed your jacket with his warmth behind you, and it felt entirely too good.

“A lot of people don’t like Los Angeles. Believe me, I’m well aware that there’s plenty to hate. But there’s also something beautiful about this city,” you mused, “I think it can be quite romantic, even.”

A comfortable silence fell between you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and held you against his chest. You felt this irresistible pull toward him, as strong as the gravity that kept you on Earth. You’d never shared each other’s space like that before, unmarred by your old tension or some rushed, overwhelming desire. But he seemed content to just hold you, and you wanted to let him, deciding then that he was someone you could simply coexist beside happily for any amount of time. No words were exchanged; neither of you needed to say anything more. Nothing seemed important enough to break that quiet spell. You placed your hand on his where it rested on your sternum, just over your heart, wanting to keep him close. 

As the two of you gazed out at the endless sea of sparkling city lights, you couldn’t help but think about how rare a perfect moment like that was in life. To find someone to enjoy it with was something even more extraordinary. And to find that in Javier, well, you were certain that was pure luck.

“It’s not so bad,” Javier mumbled, interrupting your thoughts.

“What?” 

“The city,” he answered. “I didn’t think I’d like it, but it’s been pretty good to me so far.”

You tilted your head back just enough to look at him, finding that he was already watching you with a soft expression. Despite the gorgeous view laid out before the two of you, some instinct told you he wasn’t talking about the city.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said sincerely as he traced the swell of your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” you whispered, daring him to do _something_.

With a surprising tentativeness, he matched his lips to yours. It was only when you threaded your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck that he deepened the kiss, spinning you around in his arms so that you faced him properly, so that he could kiss you just as you wanted: without hesitation and with all of him. A mix of emotions crashed through you like a tidal wave, sweeping you off your feet and pulling you out to the depths of the ocean. In that moment, you’d drown happily. 

“Javi,” you sighed when you finally parted for the simple need of air. You swiped off a smudge of your lipstick coloring his mouth with the pad of your thumb as you contemplated what you wanted next. You had a feeling he might give you anything. And you were almost sure you could go on kissing him under the moonlight for an eternity, but in the end, it was a rather easy decision. “Let’s get out of here.”

Without another word, he took your hand and led you back to his car, leaving the stunning view behind for the next passing couple to admire.

… . …

Javier parked a block away from your apartment – luckily finding the last open spot on the street at the late hour – and before you could even gather your things, he’d rounded the vehicle to open your door. For insisting he wasn’t a gentleman, he continually proved himself wrong.

Neither of you had said much of anything on the short drive back to your place, and the silence persisted as he walked you to your building with an arm around your shoulders. The only noise was the soft crunch of the brown leaves that fell from the few deciduous trees under his boots and the click of your heels on the sidewalk. The crisp autumn air was just chilly enough for you to tuck yourself a little tighter into his side, your own arm sneaking under his jacket to wrap around his waist. 

As you had on numerous occasions over the past couple of months, you soon found yourselves standing in front of each other at the foot of the stairs leading up to your building. 

“Do you want to come up?” you asked demurely, hoping he’d grant you the answer he promised the last time you posed that question. There weren’t any classes or faculty meeting or anything else work related scheduled for the next morning. As far as you knew, he didn’t have any obligations that weekend– not that you pretended to know everything he got up to. Realistically, there shouldn’t have been anything keeping the two of you from going upstairs and spending the next couple of hours wrapped up in each other. Except maybe the knowledge that in doing so you were decidedly talking your affair off campus and into your home. Into your personal lives. Not that those boundaries were ever particularly clear. 

Closing that last bit of distance, Javier placed the lightest kiss to the corner of your mouth. Pressing his nose against your cheek, his lips brushed against yours as he gave you his reply.

“ _Yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Inspo**  
>  I imagined her dress looking something like [this](https://www.harpersbazaar.com/fashion/trends/g3394/best-90s-fashion/?slide=31) or [this](https://www.everlane.com/products/womens-goweave-crossback-slip-dress-black?locale=US&utm_medium=cpc&utm_source=pla-google&utm_campaign=838138991&utm_content=434454686056&utm_term=pla-902905153813&adgroup=100689688963&pid=7683-55190&device=c&gclid=Cj0KCQjw9IX4BRCcARIsAOD2OB0SqeGaGstLYuuD1YM3sormyZUO0Qc7MGsde43y21_E9MGfbZEQU-caAt8MEALw_wcB), but I hope you know you can always imagine it as your favorite dress. These look like the perfect [strappy sandals](https://us.shein.com/Open-Toe-Strappy-Mule-Sandals-p-875486-cat-1751.html?url_from=adplammc-kaylee02-blkUS7.5_ssc&gclid=Cj0KCQjw9IX4BRCcARIsAOD2OB2EYDF7l03PQIkTlfvKKSvNrC9s5mw7oMLkLKik9n3ypiXBF9ruRSAaAiO2EALw_wcB) from the 90s if you ask me. But most importantly, this was practically the exact view of Los Angeles from Griffith Observatory that I had in mind. 
> 
> Much to my dismay, the Griffith link isn't working but you can check it out here: https://imgur.com/5efSW
> 
> Moodboard: https://hystericalmedicine.tumblr.com/post/622389246440980481/its-been-a-hot-take-since-ive-made-one-of-these
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one's life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier finally make it back to your place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say... sex makes you feel things. Vulnerable things. Discussions™️ are had because these two just wanna be naked and talk about their feelings and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for waiting so patiently for this chapter! I love you all so so much for putting up with me. 
> 
> I also want to say thank you to Gabi for this gorgeous [moodboard](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/post/623000469680340992/gabi-sent-me-this-g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s-moodboard-for)! It’s so pretty!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – explicit sexual content, oral sex (m and f receiving), sex, cumplay, praise kink reactivated, cockwarming, dirty talk followed by gratuitous pillow talk. Mild language.

“ _Yes_.”

Javier said yes. You thought your brain might’ve short-circuited for a moment, but he actually said yes. A breath of relief you didn’t realize you were holding escaped you and a smile that matched his sly one – he always seemed to know what he was doing to you – pulled wide across your face.

“Follow me,” you suggested coyly. Something mischievous flickered through his eyes and you knew you wouldn’t have to tell him twice.

With your hand clasped in his, you led Javier into your building and upstairs toward your apartment for the first time. You tried to ignore the fact that the light in the stairwell was out – again. And when you stopped in front of a door labeled 3E, you were suddenly keenly aware of the chipped gold lettering. You knew he wasn’t overly fond of your street, so you hoped he wouldn’t notice those less than desirable details. It was an old building. Those things were to be expected. Although, he didn’t really seem to be paying attention as his lips found your neck and his hands wandered over your body as you fumbled with your keys.

As soon as you unlocked your apartment, he took over, pushing the door open with one hand and spinning you around with the other. His lips landed on yours as he guided you inside. You had a feeling he would’ve headed straight for your bed if not for the overexcited dog nipping at his heels. If her happy yips and wagging tail were anything to go by, Sunny had missed Javier in the couple of weeks since she’d seen him last.

“I think you’re her favorite person now,” you said seriously, only feeling slightly betrayed by your own dog who seemed absolutely disinterested in you. Javier broke your embrace to greet her, scratching behind her ears just like she liked.

“She’s my favorite dog,” he said, looking up at you from his crouched position with a bright grin.

The simple statement brought a smile to your face as you watched them together. You doubted he understood how much that meant to you. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

“For what?” he asked as he stood to his full height.

“For being so good to her,” you answered, reaching out to finger the soft pink fabric of his shirt, “For being so good to me.”

“ _Compañera_ ,” he started. He moved closer to you and you thought he might kiss you again. Until a certain someone barked at him.

Sunny had taken his momentary lapse in attention as her cue to run off at full speed only to return and drop a toy at Javier’s feet. She looked up at him expectantly. “I don’t think he came here to play with you,” you said to her, giving him an out.

“What are you talking about?” he asked as he picked up the stuffed dragon and tossed it across the studio. She chased after it, happy to have someone new to play with. “That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“Very funny,” you deadpanned as you flicked on the lights and dropped your keys on the kitchen counter. You slipped off your jacket, toed off your heels – as fashionable as they were, you were happy to be free of them – and moved further into your small apartment. Sunny zipped past you again as she ran after her toy and you heard Javier stand and follow behind you.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he offered as he looked around the small studio.

“That is too kind of you to say. I know it’s not much.”

“It’s cozy,” he offered.

“It’s a little small,” you grimaced.

“No, I mean it’s cozy. It’s nice. It feels like a home,” he said, placing a hand on the small of your back and pulling you into his chest. You furrowed your brow at him. It seemed like an odd thing to say and you wondered what he went home to every night. He spoke again before you could even form a question. “I think this is the first time we’ve ever been alone. Being locked in our offices doesn’t count.”

“I think you’re right. What should we do?” you asked, feigning innocence. The two of you were finally off-campus and free from the constraints of your jobs. Like he said, you were alone for the first time and there was only one thing you wanted. You ran your hands up his chest before wrapping your fingers around the collar of his leather jacket and pushing it over his shoulders. As soon as he shrugged it off, his hands were back on you, resuming their earlier explorations.

“I have a few ideas,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

“Wait,” you asked, trying and failing to hold back a smile. “I have an idea too.” You dashed into the kitchen, digging around in your drawers until you found a matchbook. You lit a few of the candles scattered around the studio for those occasional nights when the power cut out before switching off the main lights. Javier just stood in the middle of the room looking rather amused with his hands on his hips and a brow quirked at you as if to ask _really, compañera_? You could practically hear it. “Don’t look at me like that,” you started, pointing at him, “It’s always quick fucks in the library or our offices or something ridiculous.” He shook his head at you, but when the flame ran out and you couldn’t strike the next one, he took the matchbook from you and lit the last two candles. “Tonight, we can finally take it slow,” you continued to explain, “Really enjoy it.”

“I’ve been enjoying it,” he grinned.

“Me too,” you admitted sheepishly. “But I– I want…” you trailed off, not quite knowing what you wanted.

“More?” he supplied. His eyes searching yours and for a moment, you lost yourself in the way the shadows cast by the candlelight flickered across his face. You offered a small nod and a calloused hand cupped your cheek and drew you closer. “I know,” was his only response.

Unsure exactly what that meant, you rerouted the conversation back to its earlier direction. “Why don’t you tell me about your ideas,” you suggested.

“I want you in that fucking bed.” He said it quietly, but the demand was clear. “And you’re not getting out of it until I say so.”

“That can be arranged,” you simpered as you let your mouth brush against his, “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” he asked, playing along.

“I want–” you started, trailing your lips down the column of his throat, “–every single–” you licked the hollow of his neck, “–goddamn stitch of clothing off your body.” You kissed his bare chest right above the first fastened button and finally understood the value in his tendency to forgo half of his buttons. Even the man’s fashion choices were growing on you. He tried to respond, but you pressed a finger to his lips. “And you don’t get to put anything back on until I say so.”

“Deal,” he agreed with a crooked smile, “Starting with you.”

Happy to comply, you turned around in his arms. His fingers quickly found the fastenings of your dress and as he eased the zipper down your back, you felt it loosen around you. His breath ghosted over your skin as he pushed the thin straps over your shoulders and down your arms and the black fabric fell softly to the floor, pooling around your feet. He deftly flicked open your bra – a practiced motion, if you had to venture a guess – and you let that hit the ground too. You shimmied out of the last piece of fabric covering you before turning around to face him, completely bare before him for the first time.

You expected him to do _something_. You knew him well enough to know that he’d seen plenty of naked women in his lifetime. But Javier just stared at you as if in a daze, his dark eyes roaming over your body.

“Javi,” you said softly, breaking him out of his trance as you toyed with the top button on his shirt, “You promised me something.”

Spurred into action by your words, his hands flew to his shirt, slipping the buttons open in record time. As soon as the sleeves were past his wrists, he tossed it aside, letting in land in a heap on your dinner table. He started on his belt. “Let me.” Your hands replaced his, working the buckle open. One hand pulled the leather through his belt loops while the other palmed his growing bulge through the denim. You let it clatter carelessly to the floor and then unbuttoned his jeans, tugging the zipper down just enough to slip a hand inside. A low, strangled groan escaped him as you wrapped a hand around his velvety length.

“Will you get on your knees for me?” He nuzzled against your temple, breath fanning out over your cheek. “Please, baby?”

“Oh, Javier,” you cooed, pushing his jeans down his legs as you knelt before him, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

You watched him stroke his cock as he stepped out of his pants and you situated yourself in front of him. Your tongue darting out to wet your lips in anticipation.

“You look so pretty like that,” he mumbled. He cupped your chin with one hand and dipped down to mold his lips to yours before leading your open, eager mouth to his dick. You nearly took him in his entirety, nose almost pressed against his pelvis. He pulsed in your mouth, and you moaned around him. A string of low, unintelligible curses fell from Javier’s lips.

You batted his hand away from where he still gripped himself and replaced it with your own. As you bobbed your head up and down, pumping your hand around his base in time with your movements, he began to unravel. Watching him, eyes shut and mouth agape as you sucked him off sent a fresh wave of arousal to your core. Desperate to relieve some of the pressure, you slipped two fingers inside yourself, moaning around his length at the feeling of being filled in two places.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum down your throat,” he rasped. The next time your lips slid down his cock, his head hit the back of your throat. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked – _hard_.

He practically growled as he pulled you off him with a slip pop. A trail of saliva still connected the two of you as you both tried to catch your breath. “Ever think that’s what I want?” you asked. As if to prove your point, you traced your tongue around his head, gathering the bit of precum leaking out.

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself as he eyed you, looking down to where your fingers were disappearing inside of you. “Holy shit,” he gasped. “Are you touching yourself?”

You nodded even as you continued pumping him with your free hand. He groaned, but you suspected it had to do more with the squelching sound of your fingers pumping in and out of your soaked center. With two strong hands, he hauled you up from your kneeling position.

“Let me fill that pussy for you,” he said darkly. “I’ll give you what you really need.”

“You think you know what I need?” you challenged.

He grinned wolfishly as he walked you backwards until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “I know exactly what you need.”

Teasing your lip between your teeth, you shuffled back onto the bed until you were resting against the pillows and spread your legs wide for him. It was a rather clear invitation to join you. One Javier took up without hesitation. Slotting himself between your parted legs, he covered your body with his, lips finding yours once more as he dipped his fingers into your folds.

“You’re so god damn wet,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Wanted you all day,” you whined. “You didn’t let me have my fun earlier.”

“I think I can make it worth your wait,” he replied, his voice low and smooth. He started to move down your body, lips trailing across your chest, but you stopped him with firm hands on his biceps.

“But I want you inside me now,” you said rather beseechingly. You honestly didn’t think it would take much to convince him.

“Nice try,” he chided with a laugh, already shifting downward. “You said we could take it slow.”

You groaned your frustration, but Javier continued his descent uninhibited, kissing and licking a wet path around your tits. He teased one of your perky nipples with his tongue while he rolled the other between his fingers. When he bit down with just enough pressure, you released a heady little moan, deciding then and there that you really liked when he did that. He lavished the same attention to your other breast before placing lingering kisses on your stomach. Your body reacted to every touch and you felt his lips smirk against your skin. He moved lower and lower until he was finally settled in between your thighs. But rather than give you what you really wanted, he took his time nipping and sucking light marks into your flesh, only letting his breath pass over your dripping core as he moved from one to the other.

It was _agony_.

Eventually, when you felt like you would actually spontaneously combust from the anticipation, you let out another groan that sounded suspiciously like his name.

“What, baby?” he murmured into your skin.

“This is too slow,” you huffed out.

“Really?” he asked, pointedly looking at your cunt, shiny and slick with your arousal, and then back to you. Even from your reclined angle, you could see for yourself exactly what he was doing to you. “I think you like it.”

“I do. Oh God, I do, but I need–” Your words turned into a moan as he flattened his tongue against your core before swirling the tip of it around your clit.

You cried out.

And then instinctively covered your mouth with the back of your hand to smother the noise. With his free hand, Javier pinned your arm to your side. He lifted his head from between your legs to level you with a serious look. “I get to hear you tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, Javi.” You nodded eagerly. That you could give to him freely because, as much as you didn’t want to feed into his ego, he damn well earned it every time. Satisfied with your answer, he easily slipped in two thick fingers, curling them against your walls as he thrust into you, and you mewled out at the sensation.

“There we go,” he said, placing a featherlight kiss to your clit before reattaching his mouth to the sensitive little nub. You made a desperate filthy noise and your hips bucked up into him, only spurred on by the way he moaned against your core. You glanced down to see his eyes close as he pressed his face into you, almost as if he was savoring you. So, you wove your fingers through his hair, holding him to you as you ground yourself against his face.

Your breaths shortened and your thighs shook around him as you got close and he picked up his pace, giving you everything you needed to send you over the edge with a delirious, broken shout.

He worked you through your orgasm, tongue tracing along your folds and prolonging your pleasure, until you gently pushed him away.

Lost in a haze of pleasure, you caught glimpses between fluttering lashes of him leaned back on his knees watching unabashedly as you came down from your high. When you held out a hand, he pulled your half-limp body up so that you were sitting in front of him with your thighs draped over his. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you slanted your mouth over his, not minding the scratch of his wet moustache in the slightest.

“Worth the wait?” he asked.

You indulged him even though you were certain he already knew the answer. “Definitely.”

His hands ran up and down your sides and over the bare skin of your back as he placed a kiss on the swell of your cheek. You hummed softly at the feel of his soothing caresses. “I like the noises you make for me.”

“I like this,” you admitted. You liked that it was just the two of you. That you were able to take your time with each other uninhibited and uninterrupted.

Javier nodded, eyes dancing between yours and your mouth. He kissed you again, his tongue tracing along your lip, seeking entrance you granted enthusiastically. You let your hands wander, feeling his chest and stomach and running over his hips and around to his back, pulling him closer and closer. He felt so solid and strong and you reveled in the sensation of finally touching him.

“Javi,” you sighed as you captured his bottom lip between your teeth, “Fuck me.” His cock twitched where it rested against your stomach, thick and heavy and weeping at the tip, and you knew you wouldn’t have to ask again.

“Ask nicely.”

 _Bastard_ , you thought to yourself. “Please fuck me, Javier,” you asked anyway.

“Lay back,” he directed with a smug smile. You did as you were told. “Perfect.”

Still kneeling above you, he positioned himself at your entrance. You were so fucking ready for it even your thighs were sticky with your arousal. And it was all he needed to ease his cock inside you. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size, though you didn’t need much considering how he’d just fucked you open with his fingers. When you gave him a small nod, he pulled out slowly, letting his ridges drag along your walls, and then–

Then he _impaled_ you on his cock.

“Fuck!” you shouted, back arching off the bed as he did it a second time. With two strong hands gripping your hips, he pulled you down on him in time with each forward thrust, hitting something deep inside you and knocking the air out of your lungs. “Jav– Javi–” you stuttered, reaching for his forearms to steady yourself, “You’re splitting me in two.”

“You wanted this,” he said darkly, “You fucking begged for this.” He wasn’t wrong but you didn’t have enough sense left in your brain to hate him for it. “Now tell me how my dick feels inside you.”

You gritted your teeth.

“Be a good girl for me.”

You didn’t know why that affected you whenever he said it. If anyone else talked to you like that you’d want to slap them, but with Javier–

“Oh, God, you’re so big. You feel so good inside me. Always fuck me just right,” you babbled incoherently.

“That’s my girl,” he growled. His hand wrapped tighter around your hips, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave bruises and set an even faster pace.

“Yes! I wanna be your good girl,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut as you crested.

“Oh, baby, I know you do,” he cooed sweetly. “You are my good girl.”

It _broke_ you and you came a second time, body writhing beneath him and cunt contracting around his cock. You knew then that Javier Peña had ruined you for anyone else.

“I’m yours,” you sobbed with a few tears streamed down your face as you rode out the rolling waves of pleasure, “I’m yours. I’m yours.”

You might’ve thought he was before, but he was fucking you in earnest. He was panting hard, his teeth bared for you. The headboard banged against the wall each time he slammed into you. It was raw and unrestrained.

It was him

And he was quickly losing control.

“Don’t hold back, Javier. I want it all,” you reassured him, “Please.”

Taking your hands in his, he intertwined your fingers above your head, leaning over you as he pushed his cock into as deep as possible. Lips parting slightly under that damn mustache that you’d somehow grown fond of without even realizing it, he came with a hoarse, low groan. He all but fell on you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, still buried deep inside you.

“Oh, Javi.” His name tumbled freely from your lips, a quiet whisper into his damp curls. It was the only thing you could manage to say as you tried to catch your breath. You soothed your hands across his back, holding him close and savoring the feel of his flushed, heated skin. There was a part of you that always liked to be held like that after and when you realized that he wanted that too, your heart soared. You would’ve been happy like that all night, wrapped up in his arms and completely filled by him, but you had no idea how long he would stay, so tried to draw that moment out while you could. “Javi.”

“I like it when you say my name like that,” he said almost too quietly. He tightened his hold on you and you nuzzled against him, letting him know that you heard him.

Even as he began to soften, you were stuffed so full of him that nothing seeped out. There was something so illicitly enticing about it that you clenched around him. He groaned and finally sat up, slowly pulling out of you. Still situated between your thighs, his eyes dropped to admire his work as it leaked out of you. Two fingers slid through your folds and gathered his cum.

You gasped when he pushed it inside you.

“Javi,” you choked out. He only responded by pressing your hips down with a firm hand on your abdomen.

“I could play with this pussy all night,” he muttered as he watched your cunt flutter around his fingers. He addressed his next question to you. “Think you have one more in you?”

“Only for you.”

You swore his chest puffed out a little at that. “Damn fucking right.”

With one hand Javier pumped two fingers into you, using his own cum to ease his movements, while the thumb on his other hand rubbed at your swollen clit. Already overstimulated and still sensitive from your previous orgasms, what he was doing was hot enough to push you right back over the ledge. 

“I love watching you cum.” And you believed him. At that point, you were convinced he’d made it his life mission. So, when he removed his hand from your core, you took his wrist and brought his fingers to your mouth. As you sucked your combined orgasms off of him, your pride swelled at the way he gaped at you. “You’re so perfect.

“Javi, that was…” You couldn’t find the right adjective to describe what just happened.

“That was round one,” he finished for you. The two of you laughed but you knew he was serious.

… . …

You’d opened a window and a fresh breeze rustled the drawn curtains and cooled your tiny apartment. He felt the crisp air on his exposed back as he laid much like he had before; his body in between your legs, head resting on your sternum, hands stroking your sides with only a single sheet covering the lower halves of your spent bodies. He was surprisingly content to just be there with you, doing nothing more than listening to the beat of your heart and breathing you in. There was always something fresh and clean and a little floral about your scent. After using your soap, he probably smelled like it too.

Of course, he hadn’t appreciated the ice-cold shower.

Or, more accurately, he didn’t like that you had to endure that every day.

_“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, glancing back down at the mess he’d made between your legs. “Shower?” he suggested._

_“Um, sure,” you replied with a grimace. “I hope you don’t mind cold water.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“The water heater broke over the summer. It didn’t really bother me then but it’s fucking freezing now. I don’t know why everyone in the building isn’t complaining unless it’s literally just my apartment. I’ve called a dozen times but… the super doesn’t seem to care.” He ground his teeth together as he thought it over. “You hate my apartment, don’t you?”_

_“I don’t love it,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Just…next time we’re going to my place. I have hot water and more than one fucking room.” You made a face at him. “Not that this isn’t nice.”_

_“I can’t just leave Sunny all night.”_

_“Bring her,” he stated. “Bring the fucking candles too, I don’t care.”_

_“I knew you liked the candles,” you beamed at him._

_He ignored you, opting instead to pull you out of bed and push you toward the bathroom with a playful swat on your ass that earned him a lilting laugh from you._

Afterward, you’d slipped out with the dog while he was taking his own cold shower. Javier emerged from the bathroom just as you kicked the front door shut and unhooked her leash. Sunny trotted off to claim her spot on the couch, head propped up on one of the pillows as she watched him. You kicked off your sneakers and stripped off your dress – apparently, you’d forgone your bra and panties – as you moved further into the apartment before perching on the edge of your bed. That was a sight he didn’t expect to tire of. He’d happily dropped his towel and slipped in between the sheets with you.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the happier he was that the two of you ended up this way. That he’d had enough sense to take you out instead of just fucking you in his office. That it was finally just the two of you alone together. You deserved something like that. Something better. Especially considering the day you were having before up to that point.

“Why aren’t you tenured?” Javier asked, remembering how the evening started.

“You’ve got me naked in bed and that's what you’re thinking about right now?” you laughed.

“I was just thinking of you,” he answered honestly, tilting his head back to look at you.

“Oh,” you sighed. You blinked at him a few times and he wondered why that surprised you. “Well, I– I was supposed to get tenure this year. It takes a while because there’s a whole committee process and stuff, but it was supposed to finally happen this year. Technically, it was supposed to start last year. Then they promised me this year. But then–” you stopped yourself. Your fingers ceased drawing abstract shapes across his back and he felt you tense beneath him.

“What happened?” he asked, squinting at you.

“It doesn’t matter now,” you started, “But they told me there wasn’t enough money in the budget for me. Except that couldn’t have been true because...”

“They hired me,” he finished for you. "They’re paying my salary with–" He sat up, leaning his weight on one elbow, so that he could look at you. “Fuck–,” he spat as he realized what that meant. Suddenly, it all made sense. _Everything_ made sense. “Fuck. No wonder you hated me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” you rushed to assure him. “None of that was your fault. You didn’t even know–”

“No. No, baby.” His head fell to your chest as his heart broke for you. He couldn’t even imagine what that would feel like for you. You. You poured your heart and soul into your work and cared about your students more than anyone else at that university. “No.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said flatly, his voice muffled as he spoke into your body. He lifted his head and locked his gaze onto yours. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“I would’ve understood,” he said firmly, begging you to believe him. To trust him. 

You looked away from him, jaw tightening. “That’s why you were so upset earlier. Beyond the fact that Holloway shouldn’t have a job, they keep overlooking you.” You nodded silently, still unable to face him. “How have you not burned that place to the fucking ground?”

You gave a humorless laugh and a rueful smile. “Because I love my students. And my research is important. At this point, the only way that I can make a difference is by playing by their rules and hoping that over time I can change the system from the inside out. I have some faith that the students I teach carry those lessons into their lives so that they can make the world a better place. I... I have to believe that otherwise I’m going to lose my mind.” Your face contorted as you blinked back a few tears. He moved to lie next to you, pulling your body toward him so that he could hold you tighter. He caught that one errant tear you cursed for escaping with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I’ve ruined–”

“No. Don’t do that. And don’t be sorry. This is better.” You peered up at him with a creased brow. “Now I know. I’m really glad you told me. I want you to know that I’m on your side, _mi compañera_. I’ve never called you that lightly.”

“I know. I can’t tell you how much it means to me,” you said fondly. “I’m glad you’re here, Javier.”

He tried to smile but it felt pained even to him. “If I wasn’t here things would be different for you.”

“Yeah, but in all the wrong ways. They would’ve found another excuse. And then we wouldn’t have met,” you said, tracing the curve of his jaw as you spoke. “I– I needed to meet you. I used to think you were the enemy–” your laugh was real that time, “–But I was so wrong. You’re exactly who I need most.”

He opened his mouth to counter that, not understanding how any of that could be true, when you stopped him.

“You’re my friend,” you said, placing a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “My confidant.” Your lips landed on his cheek that time. “My partner.” You kissed the corner of his mouth where a genuine smile quirked upward. “My–” You stopped, and he watched your eyes shift as you searched for the right word. Instead, you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. He was oddly disappointed. You watched him for a moment before running the pads of your fingers across his brow. “Stop scowling.”

“I’m not scowling.”

“Yes, you are. You do it all the time and normally it’s cute, but I don’t like when it’s directed at me.”

“I’m definitely not scowling at you,” he said. “I just think you deserve more.”

“I’m quite happy with where I am right now.” Your lips met in a long, lingering kiss. It was achingly soft and slow – for once, completely unhurried.

“Javi?” you breathed against his lips, finally breaking away. He made a curious sound in response. “I’m hungry.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled, head falling back against the pillow. “That doesn’t even surprise me.”

Laughing, you climbed over him and scurried into the kitchen, opening and closing a few cabinets before prying open the fridge. You stared at the contents for a bit before finally making a decision. You returned a moment later with a bright assortment of freshly rinsed berries.

He moved to sit against the headboard, and you settled against him, your back to his chest. He watched as you plucked a bright red strawberry from the mix and brought it to your mouth, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as you bit into the ripe fruit. You discarded the green top and he watched as your pink tongue darted out to lick the sticky juice off your lips. There was nothing suggestive to any of this, but he had to turn his lower half away from you.

“Javi?”

“What?” he answered lamely and a little too quickly, sure you’d noticed.

“Have some, please.” You held the bowl out to him, and he picked out a handful of blueberries to appease you.

He popped the berries into his mouth and his hand fell to his lap where he absentmindedly thumbed the bedsheets. “These are nice,” he commented, trying to distract himself. A laugh bubbled past your lips and you broke out into a fit of giggles. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said even as your laughter still shook your body. “I’m just glad you like them.”

You turned to him and– And you smiled. Bright and easy and carefree. And all for him. It was infectious and he couldn’t help returning it with one of his own. It was addictive. Made him feel years younger and so much lighter. Worlds away from the person everyone thought he was. With you, he felt like himself. _That_ was a rare feeling considering he’d spent the last few years trying in vain to figure out who he was.

He took the bowl away from you, setting it on the nightstand, and pulled you to him, crashing his lips against yours in a messy, desperate kiss. His tongue stroked yours hungrily as he devoured you and you matched his enthusiasm – even as you complained.

“I wasn’t–” you said in between gasps for air, “–Finished with that.”

“Later,” he growled into your neck as he searched for that sensitive spot just under your jaw. “I need you now.”

“Time for round two?” you asked with another genuine laugh and his heart sped up at the sound. Javier thought to himself in the brief moment of clarity cutting through the lust still clouding his brain that sex should always feel that way.

.

Javier rolled off you with a satisfied groan and collapsed onto the bed, the sheets a tangled mess around his legs. He wasn’t usually one to fall asleep immediately after, but his entire body felt heavy and sated, and he was quickly drifting off. He was barely cognizant enough to feel the bed shift next to him as you got up and hurried to the bathroom. When he finally opened his eyes, you were sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, nibbling on a strawberry you’d plucked from the forgotten bowl.

“Are you... are you going to stay?” you asked hesitantly.

He thought it was a strange question, especially when he glanced at the clock sitting on your nightstand and read it was nearing two o’clock in the morning, but he went along with it. “Want me to?” he asked with a lazy smirk.

You pushed the last raspberry past your lips, almost as if biding your time. “I really do,” you finally answered. “But only if you want to.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you, bringing your berry-stained fingertips to his mouth and pressing a kiss to them. That seemed to ease your apprehension. He motioned for you to join him and you crawled into bed, but as he reached for you, he paused. “Why wouldn’t I stay?”

You shrugged and pulled the sheet tighter around you as you sat up. “I didn’t know if this was that serious.”

He mirrored your position, suddenly wide awake. “Baby, I don’t think you realize what this is.”

“Feel free to enlighten me.”

His mouth snapped shut as he struggled to offer some sort of response. But one look at you told him you didn’t have an answer either. You were both fighting to understand what was happening between the two of you. “I don’t know,” he answered after a long moment. “But I’m not just with you to fuck you and run. Sometimes that happens at work but that’s not what I want now.”

“What do you want?” you asked, chin tilted downward as you looked up at him through your lashes.

“What do you want?” he echoed.

“Hell no,” you said, shaking your head. “I asked you first. And the last time I answered that question– Well, it wasn’t a very good answer, was it?”

_“Then maybe we can just be together. Nothing has to change. We don’t have to call it anything if you don’t want to. We can just keep doing what we’re doing. No pressure, you know?”_

He remembered your words perfectly. Even then he’d known it wasn’t going to be enough. That even if you were fucking each other exclusively, it was inevitably going to evolve into something more. And it had. To prove it, there he was in your bed after what was probably his first real date in… a long time.

“Well, I think we were almost right. Nothing has to really change. What we have is good. You’re... you’re my partner.” He reached for your hand, holding it between both of his. “I want you,” he stated simply. “I like being with you. I like who I am with you. And I want to be with you all the time.”

“I want to be with you too. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. And it scares me. All of my past relationships were, well, I think you know. I just– I don’t know how to do this with you.”

“Neither do I.” The two of you shared a laugh and a bit of the tension dissipated. “I haven’t done something like this in over a decade. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t like you as much as I do.”

“Yes.” You moved to straddle his lap, your hands cupping his face. “I like you so much, Javi. I want to date you. Actually, properly date you.”

“What did you think tonight was?” he asked, not quite wanting to know the answer.

“Two friends who happen to be fucking each other sharing a nice meal,” you offered with a worried expression.

“Shit,” he cursed as he fell back against the bed. “I can’t even fucking do that right.”

“That was a date?” you asked, crawling up his body to hover over him and beam down at him.

“You’re killing me, baby,” he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Of course it was. And based on that damn dress you wore you fucking knew it.”

You laughed but your smile quickly faded into something more serious. “I wasn’t lying earlier. I know sometimes people say things they don’t mean during, but it was… it was the truth.”

“What was?”

“I’m yours.” The words floated easily off your lips and sent a chill down his spine. You said it without hesitation, without fear. As if it was a statement of fact rather than a confession. You traced the tip of your finger down the bridge of his nose before pressing the lightest kiss to his lips. “I’m all yours, Javi.”

“I’m yours too,” he promised. And that was the truth.

“It’s settled then,” you said with a sparkling smile, “I’m yours and you’re mine and we’re together.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah, you got me.”

“And I wasn’t even trying.”

“You don’t have to be smug about it,” he teased, pulling you against him and settling in for the night. Until he realized the apartment was a bit too well lit. “Who’s gonna blow out all these candles?”

You groaned and sank deeper into the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and looking at him with wide doe eyes. Of course, he acquiesced.

… . …

When Javier woke the next morning, he was holding you just as he was when he fell asleep. You were curled into his side with an arm draped across him, your cheek pillowing on his chest. But what surprised him was the little dog snuggled against him on the other side, head resting on his belly as she slept. At his slightest movement, Sunny’s brown eyes blinked open, as if daring him to disturb her rest. He petted her with his free hand and her eyes closed as she drifted off again.

As he looked between the two of you, he realized he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Not that he wanted to. He hadn’t slept that well in months if not years. No strange dreams, no nightmares, no insomnia. Just a quiet night of rest with you in his arms.

He gazed down at your sleeping form. Like that, in the gray light of dawn, you didn’t look like your normal composed self, perfectly poised to take on the world. You looked peaceful and sweet and innocent. It was a new side of you and it only strengthened his innate desire to protect you. Because now you were letting him really see and have you – all of you.

“Fuck,” Javier whispered to himself, tearing his eyes away from your sleeping form to stare at the ceiling. A new anxiety gripped him. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was almost certain he was going to fuck everything up.

But when you tightened your hold on him, still fast asleep with your gentle exhalations warming his skin, he wanted to believe he could be the person you deserved. You’d said he was exactly what you needed. He didn’t know how that could possibly be true, but he knew he felt the same. So, he pressed a kiss to your brow and relaxed back into the plush pillows, deciding he could worry about it later and letting himself drift off for a few more blissful hours.

… . …

You woke up much later than normal, even for a weekend, feeling wonderfully rested but sore in all the right places. Before you even opened your eyes, you felt Javier beneath you and a small smile crossed your face. You looked up at him with sleepy half-lidded eyes, finding him already awake and waiting for you, and sighed contentedly.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I just woke up.” It might’ve been his first time seeing you in the morning, but you knew exactly what you looked like when you woke up. But as you ran a hand through his mussed hair, stuck up in all directions after the previous evening’s activities and a long sleep, you understood.

You leaned closer to him, intent on capturing his lips with yours, when Sunny wormed her way in between the two of you, clearly unhappy about being left out of the fun. You both laughed, and you were once again grateful that Javier seemed to enjoy her antics.

“I think someone is feeling neglected,” you said around a wide smile. “I definitely need to take her out.” You reluctantly extracted yourself from his embrace and slipped out of bed, but found you missed Javier’s warmth immediately as the cool morning air kissed your skin.

When you stole a glance back at the pair, Javier narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought you were on my side.”

You grinned at the sight when she left a wet kiss on his face before jumping off the bed to follow you.

When you returned, he was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through an old sociology journal. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the apartment.

You pushed aside your work things, including the journal he’d been perusing, and dropped a paper bag on the table, digging out an assortment of breakfast pastries, each individually wrapped in thin, crinkly brown paper, from your favorite cafe.“Hungry? I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a bunch of different options.”

“I’m fine with coffee,” he said as he took a sip out of your favorite mug.

You made a disapproving noise. You weighed two options in your hands – a bagel versus a croissant – before placing an everything bagel in front of him, deciding it was the heartier of the two. “Eat, Javier,” you commanded gently.

“Fine,” he said, taking the bagel. “But I need you to do something for me.”

That caught you off guard. You eased yourself into the seat next to his. “Okay,” you mumbled around a bite of croissant.

“I want your landlord’s number.”

You swallowed and spat out a curt, “What?”

“Your landlord’s number. Or the superintendent. Whoever.”

You stilled.

“Look, baby,” he started, leaning forward to hold your face between two hands and force you to look him in the eye, “I know you’re an independent woman and you don’t need me to solve your problems. But give me his fucking number.”

He was right, of course. You were fiercely independent. Almost to a point of pride. But it was because you had to be. You’d been completely on your own for years. But as he sat across from you with a determined look in his eyes, you decided to let him try. You nodded into his hands and then stood to find your address book.

Javier followed you, picking up the landline and punching in the number you pointed out as your superintendent’s contact information. You hovered nearby, pretending not to listen, as he spoke evenly in Spanish, unfazed by whatever the man was saying on the other line. You had a feeling his tone was part of his tactic. Javier wasn’t one to be ruffled easily – you doubted they let you chase after drug lords if that was the case.

When you caught a few choice curses and he turned away from you as he argued with your surly super, you decided you probably didn’t want to hear what he was saying. So, you sat on the bed with Sunny. She stretched out on her back and you gave her a thorough belly rub. You heard the receiver hit the cradle and a moment later Javier sat himself on the edge of your bed. 

“He’ll be here at two.”

“Just like that?” you asked incredulously. You didn’t even want to consider why the super was so much more responsive to Javier than you. But when he grinned at you, you forgot about anything else.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you insisted.

“I did. You’ve helped me in so many ways.” He brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “What else do you need?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Will you stay? He obviously listens to you.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” you said as a huge grin broke out across your face.

You shut the door behind the superintendent and his assistant – it took them all of an hour to fix your busted water heater, but you didn’t even have it in you to be mad about that at the moment – and hurried into your bathroom. You switched on the water and immediately stripped off your clothes. You turned around to find Javier leaning against the threshold watching you with a growing smirk.

“Are you going to join me?” you asked, taking his hand in yours and drawing him into the room.

“Of course.”

You stepped into the shower and tentatively reached out a hand gasping when the warm spray hit your palm. “It’s hot!” You spun around and wrapped your arms around his waist, looking at him with a wicked grin. “I’m so going to give you the best blow job of your life later.”

“I think you’re more than capable; you already hold the top spot.” You laughed into his bare chest and he backed you into the water, letting it warm you.

“I’m so happy,” you sighed. “Thank you, Javi.”

“Anything, _mi compañera_.”

“I think you like taking care of me.”

He regarded you for a drawn-out breath. You waited patiently, knowing that sometimes it took him a while to find the right words. You were getting better at reading him, but sometimes he was still a complete mystery. Sometimes, you felt like you hardly knew him at all. And yet, you felt so strongly about him. And the thought of being with him, just like this, stirred something deep within you. It almost felt surreal. Instead of saying anything, he kissed you soundly. That you understood; it spoke what he couldn’t.

You were going to take care of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading from the bottom of my heart 💗
> 
> ... . ...
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one’s life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier make the most of your last free weekend before final exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this update took a lot longer than I expected. The good news is my cross-country move went smoothly and I have a plenty of time before classes start to write! Thank you so, so much for your endless patience with me and for all of your wonderfully sweet comments on the last chapter. I seriously cherish you all 💗This is just a really soft, fun chapter as these two settle into their new ~relationship~ and start dating properly. Smut and fluff. My favorite. I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, breathplay, cumplay, and the usual dirty talk. Mild language.

“Peña,” Javier offered as a curt greeting as he snatched the phone from its cradle. 

“If it isn’t Professor Peña?” a slow, drawling voice asked on the other end of the line. “You know I don’t think I’ll ever get used to calling you that.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, Murph,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes despite the fact Steve couldn’t see him. It was safe to assume that his friend knew him well enough to hear the expression in his tone. Still, it was nice to hear a familiar voice. Steve was the one and only person Javier kept in touch with from the DEA. As far as he was concerned, just about everyone else could go fuck themselves. He brought the receiver to his other ear as he took a seat on his living room sofa, propping his feet up on a still-unpacked moving box. “Remind me why I gave you this number?”

“I’d imagine it’s because you miss me so damn much,” Steve teased with a laugh. However, when he spoke again, his voice dropped, shifting into something more serious. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” he answered shortly. Ever since he returned from his second stint in Colombia, everyone who asked him that question had the same apprehensive tone. While he appreciated the concern, he didn’t want it.

“How are you really doing, Javi? I haven’t heard from you in weeks and last time we talked you didn’t seem fine,” Steve said pointedly. Javier ran a hand over his face. Steve Murphy had seen him at his worst. He knew he couldn’t lie to him. What surprised him, however, was that he didn’t need to lie.

“I’m actually doing okay,” he answered truthfully. “Maybe better than okay.”

“Really?” 

“Believe it or not, I’m starting to get the hang of this teaching thing.” 

“ _Really_?” he asked again. 

Javier wasn’t sure if he truly didn’t buy it or was just purposefully needling him for his own amusement. He laughed it off. “I’ve had help,” he offered by way of explanation. “You know I work better with a partner.”

“That might be the nicest Goddamn thing you’ve ever said to me,” Steve laughed. “But I can’t believe I’m being replaced by some boring, old professor.”

“Well,” Javier started, already predicting where the conversation would go from there, “That’s not how I would describe her.”

“I should’ve fucking known. And what exactly does she help you with?”

“Work,” he insisted. “Lectures, exams. Hell, she taught me how to write a fucking syllabus. I would’ve been screwed without her, man. She saw right through me. Saw me struggling and offered to help. She’s–” he sighed, “She’s incredible.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, with only the static hum of the phone line filling the silence. “You know, I honestly can’t tell if you’re fucking her or not.”

“Only for the last month.

Steve’s laugh filled the line. “You really paced yourself, Peña.”

“Fuck you.” There was no malice behind his words. 

“I’m just sayin’, it must be serious.”

“It– It is,” Javier admitted. And then promptly changed the subject. “How are things in Miami?”

Steve filled him in on the latest at his DEA field office and as Javier listened to him talk, he realized… he didn’t miss any of it. The violence, the corruption, the bureaucracy – it was all the same bullshit. In a way, he was actually glad to be on the outside looking in. Still, he offered what advice he could, and Steve seemed happy to bounce ideas off of him. That he did miss. 

The sound of a steel pot clattering on kitchen tile followed by a girlish squeal of laughter, distracted both men. “How are Connie and Olivia?” he asked with a light laugh. He could hear the two in the background along with the tale tell signs of cooking in the kitchen. 

“We’re hosting her parents this weekend. As always, Con’s freaking out over dinner, but Olivia’s helping her. She’s convinced she wants to be a chef when she grows up. ‘Course last week it was astronaut, so I’ll keep you posted. What are you doing this weekend?”

Javier smiled to himself. “The usual.”

… . …

“Baby, you look so good bouncing on my dick,” Javier praised. His eyes roamed over your naked body as you writhed on top of him. Another quick snap of your hips drew his attention downward, and he exhaled sharply as he watched his cock repeatedly disappear inside you. Somehow, he fit inside you so _perfectly_. “Fuck,” he spat, “You take me so well.”

“I love having you inside me,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. Even then, your pace never faltered.

“I can tell. You’re dripping all over me.” 

Your head rolled forward and you smiled lustily at him. “I think you like it, Javi.” 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunted, “This pussy was made for my cock.”

“I know,” you whined. With a delicious roll of your hips, you took him even deeper. “I want it every day.”

“I’ll fucking give it to you. Every day. Give you everything. Whatever you want, baby.” And there he went running his mouth during sex again. It didn’t matter. He was too far gone to care. “Tell me what you want.”

“Ja— Javi,” you stuttered around each jerk of your hips, “Javi, I’m so– So close. I need to cum.”

“You _need_ it?” he mocked.

“Yes!” you cried. “I fucking need it. Please make me cum,”

He’d give you whatever you wanted. He knew it. You knew it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have his fun with you first. He ran his hands up your sides to your chest. He palmed your perfect tits, pushing them together as he nipped at your soft flesh. “But I could watch you ride me all day.”

“I need more,” you begged.

With his hands still firmly on your chest, he leaned back against your couch to leverage himself as he started pounding into, meeting you thrust for thrust. It was rough and hard and fast – and you took it all.

“More,” you mewled lewdly, head thrown back and eyes closed.

His hand shot up and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. “When did you get so greedy?” he growled. 

Your eyes flew open in shock. He realized what he did and started to pull his hand away — until you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and held the palm of his hand against the soft flesh under your jaw. 

“Oh my God,” you panted, Yes!” 

“You sure?” The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. Unless, of course, he was certain it felt good for you.

“You said you’d give me everything,” you whispered, eyes boring into his. “I want it all, Javi.”

Readjusting his hand to cup your neck, he tentatively pressed his thumb and index to your pulse points. Your wild heartbeat fluttered under his grip. It wasn’t a new act for him, but not something he’d dared do to you before. But when your pussy fluttered around his cock, he knew you liked it. Fuck, he liked it. With a wicked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, he asked, “Like this, baby?”

You made a whimpering, humming noise in response as you started to rock your hips against his, resuming your fast pace. You felt so good on his dick. Felt so good in his arms. And he could feel you coming undone for him. Your breathy moans reverberated against his palm. He drew you closer with the hand on your throat, pressing his mouth against your ear. “Cum for me.” 

He squeezed just hard enough. 

Your body seized in his grasp and your cunt contracted around him. You choked out a broken scream as you fell apart in his hands. 

“You feel so good coming on my cock, baby,” he growled, “So fucking good. Your pussy gets so fucking tight.”

You practically melted into him as you came down from your climax. Your eyes blinked open, and you looked at him with a dizzy, blissed out expression. Running a hand across his cheek, you cooed softly, “Take what you need.”

He wound his arms around you, placing one hand between your shoulder blades to press you to him, and kissed you as he rutted into you. Your scorching touch traveled from his shoulders to his neck until you finally wound your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly. He pulled you down onto his cock one last time and he locked you in place, groaning as he bit down on the tender flesh of your neck and emptied himself into you. 

He pressed a few soothing kisses to your neck before resting his cheek against your head. “I like it when you’re greedy,” he said through a ragged breath. “I want you to be.”

“Think you can handle that?” you asked, sounding just as winded as he did.

“I’ll do my best.” He felt you smile against his neck. 

After a moment, you tried to move off his lap. As you raised yourself off of him, your combined releases leaked out of you, spilling on his abdomen. He didn’t think anything of it, unfazed by the mess, until you kneeled in front of him. You flattened your tongue against his skin and licked him clean. When you righted yourself, you opened your mouth to show him your work, white cum coating your tongue before you swallowed it down with a devilish smile. “Fuck,” he whispered mostly to himself as head hit the back of the couch. That image replayed behind his shut eyes. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” 

“Get dressed,” you said with a laugh. When he opened his eyes, you were pulling your sweater back on, a matching skirt already buttoned around your waist. “We’re going to be late.”

“How can we be late to a museum?” 

The only answer he got was his shirt being thrown over his face. He tossed it aside as he fixed his jeans and redid his belt. “I knew I shouldn’t have buzzed you in,” you said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You’re trouble as soon as you’re through that door.”

“I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Why would you want to?” you simpered. 

“C’mere,” he said, holding out a hand. Javier pulled you to him, sitting up straighter to capture your lips with his in a bruising kiss. Almost instantly, he lost himself in the feel of your mouth moving against his and he chased you even as you started to pull away.

“We have to go,” you insisted with a breathy laugh. You slipped out of his grasp and started to search for your second shoe, finding it under the coffee table where it landed when you’d hastily kicked it off earlier. Suddenly, you paused and turned back to him. “You still want to go, right? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he assured you. It always surprised him. You were such a confident, determined woman, but when it came to things like this, you were almost timid. As if one wrong move would push him away. He wondered, not for the first time, just how out of touch with you the rest of the guys you’d dated were. Hell, he hadn’t dated anyone in years, but he knew he never wanted to make you feel like that.

You nodded and continued gathering your things, but something about the look on your face still didn’t sit right with him.

… . …

Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised you, but it seemed that all of Javier’s past offers to do things with you had been sincere.

While you didn’t spend every waking moment together ¬¬– you both had your work and some semblance of your own lives – you were together every chance you got as your lives became ever more entwined. Javier seemed just as keen on that as you. The past couple of weeks, when he wasn’t fucking you through your mattress every chance he got, he took you to your favorite restaurants or his favorite bars. On weekends, you insisted on leading him around the city. And by some miracle, he followed.

Even after knowing him for three months, you couldn’t get a decent read on his personal interests and hobbies. Finally, you decided he didn’t really have any, which, unfortunately, made sense. You could only imagine what his life must’ve been like for the past ten years – you doubted a decade as a DEA agent in Colombia left much time for anything else. So, as you continued your grand tour of Los Angeles, you decided to test the waters. To find out what Javier enjoyed. 

The results so far had been inconclusive at best. You’d tried taking him to see a movie the previous weekend, but that had ended with the two of you making out like teenagers in the back row of the theater. You missed the entire movie and he couldn’t even remember the title of the film. 

_“Your only interests can’t be work, sex, and alcohol,” you’d chastised afterward as you walked back to his car._

_“Says who?” Javier snarked, reaching around you to slip a hand in the back pocket of your jeans and grab your ass through the denim._

_“I do.”_

Still, he’d surprised you when he agreed to go with you to see an exhibition at the county art museum. You hadn’t managed to make it yet during the busy quarter and it was the closing weekend. You would’ve been fine going on your own, but, as it turned out, you didn’t have to. 

From the first room, you could tell Javier wasn’t exactly into postmodern art, but he made an attempt and you appreciated him for it. He walked beside and you examined each canvas together. When you came across one particularly _unique_ painting, his brows furrowed as he glanced sideways at you. You had to bury your face against the wine-colored fabric of his shirt to repress a laugh that threatened to break the reverent silence of the museum halls. 

Even then, he let your curiosity guide you both through the galleries. You knew he was still with you because the man had to be touching you at all times. If he wasn’t twining his fingers with yours, he had a hand on the small of your back. Sometimes it went lower. And sometimes it was so low you had to gently move it back up for him. Yet you felt his touch was as much for your benefit as his. It let you know what he was there. That he was still following you.

Nevertheless, by the end of the special collection, it was clear he seemed more interested in admiring you than the art on display.

So, you took a different approach. 

Taking his hand in yours, you led him across the museum campus to the Latin American wing, bypassing the rooms full of ancient art and artifacts for the twentieth century selections. When Javier fell quiet and drifted away, drawn from one piece to the next, observant eyes shifting from painting to sculpture to photograph, you knew you’d struck something.

That time you followed him.

A few galleries later, he stopped in front of a series of black and white photographs. Each candid captured people as they went about their everyday lives – townsfolk attending a festival, men working on a farm, a mother holding her child.

The plaque nearby read: _Nereo López, Colombia, 1962_.

Your gaze returned to Javier. He stood quietly for a long time, looking almost lost. And yet somehow comforted. You let him have his moment before moving to stand closer to him, gently taking his hand in yours and leaning your cheek against his shoulder. 

“I like these too,” you offered softly.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn't need to. He just squeezed your hand and led you to the next painting.

… . …

“You liked some of it, right?” you asked curiously. You had a feeling you knew the answer, but you asked anyway.

“I really did. And I had a nice time with you.”

“Good.” You breathed a sigh of relief. The two of you had left the museum halls in favor of the crisp, late-afternoon air that reminded you it was actually December. You walked up Fairfax, your next destination already in mind – even if he didn’t know it yet. The old farmer’s market was just a couple of blocks away and on a chilly Saturday like that one, it wasn’t too late to find something good.

“Still not sure about that first exhibit. With all the… whatever the fuck that was,” he grumbled.

You laughed. “That’s okay. Neo-expressionism isn’t for everyone.” He just shook his head at you. “I always try to see as many of the visiting exhibitions as possible, but you never know what you’re going to get. I don’t like all of it either, but I don’t think we’re supposed to. All art shouldn’t appeal to everyone. That would be boring. Art should be provocative. Make you feel things. Even if you don’t like what that is. Of course, my favorite pieces are the ones that make me feel like… everything is going to be okay.”

He nodded along, and not just because he was humoring you. You could tell he was thinking, lost in that dangerous mind of his. An entire block passed by before he spoke again. He flashed you a charmingly lopsided grin. “You’re still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, _hermosa_.”

“You’re such a flirt, Javier Peña,” you said with a smile so wide your cheeks hurt, “But that has to be your worst line yet.” 

“Is it working?”

“Kind of,” you begrudgingly admitted. “But I am really glad you enjoyed the museum. I was worried.”

“I know you were.” He stopped walking and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head as he leveled you with a serious look. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” you answered tentatively.

“Stop assuming that I don’t want to do these things with you.” 

“I don’t do that,” you said a little too quickly. “Do I do that?”

“Every time. This never used to happen. When I wanted to work with you or grab a drink or whatever, you always believed me. Even if you said no.”

“We’ve never done something like this before,” you argued weakly. Javier’s hands fell to his hips as he waited for you to correct yourself. “I just– I don’t want to overstep or overwhelm you.”

“You’re not. I promise.” he said firmly as he soothed his hands down your arms. He looked sincere, so you nodded your agreement. “I always have fun with you.”

“Unfortunately, this is probably the last bit of fun we’ll have for a few weeks.”

His face fell. “Why?”

“If you thought midterms were bad, finals are a _nightmare_.”

“Fuck me, I barely survived that,” he groaned. He shook his head as he squinted at you, the already setting sun shining in his eyes. You reached up to slide his sunglasses off his head to shield his eyes and his expression softened. “Of course, I didn’t have you then.” 

That much was true. The two of you weren’t even speaking for most of the midterm season. But things had changed. Drastically.

“You’ll survive,” you promised, “I have the utmost faith in you.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips but didn’t pull away. “We should make the most of our last free weekend,” he suggested, his voice low and hoarse as he spoke against your lips.

“Let’s go back to my place,” you started, pulling him closer to kiss him once more, “And I’ll make you dinner.”

He drew back with a surprised look that even his aviators couldn’t hide. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

… . …

“I can actually cook,” you said as you cut the ends off of a bundle of asparagus spears. You discarded the fibrous bits before slicing the stems into even, bite-sized pieces. You glanced up at Javier. He sat at the counter across from you, watching you with amusement.

“Sure,” Javier teased as he brought his beer bottle to his lips.

“It’s true!” you emphasized as pointed at the portion of broccolini you’d set out. He slid it to you without further prompting. “I just… never have a reason to.” 

Most days, you couldn’t find the time. You were a busy woman and it seemed like a lot of trouble to go through for one person. Especially when you lived in a city with so many culinary temptations. When you did have a moment to spare, cooking was a rather relaxing experience. You could easily follow a recipe without putting too much thought into it and, in the end, you could literally eat the results of your labor. That was a reward in itself. Although it was usually not enough to inspire you to prepare a full dinner for yourself. Not after a long day at work or an evening where you were deep into whatever it was you were reading or writing. But you liked the idea of having someone to enjoy it with for once.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do something this domestic,” he provoked playfully.

“Don’t get used to it, Javi.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Things were quiet for a moment as you continued rinsing and chopping your assortment of vegetables. Only the soft music emanating from the old radio you bought on a whim at a flea market years ago and sat mostly untouched on your kitchen counter filled the studio.

“Can I help you, _mi compañera_ ,” Javier offered quietly, his low baritone almost blending into the music.

“Sure,” you replied, not bothering to hide the surprise from your voice. “Do you want to make the salad?”

He set down his drink and joined you in the kitchen. You set a pot of water to boil on the stove before resuming your spot at the cutting board. Except your work slowed significantly as you carefully stole glances to your right where he stood at the sink, rinsing bunches of leafy greens under a gentle spray. You marveled at just how _good_ it felt to have him with you. Even when doing something so mundane, you liked having him by your side. The fact that he wanted to be there was almost hard to believe.

You wished every night could be like that. And while at first your mind told you that was foolish, a passing thought told you there was no reason it couldn’t be true. That he might stay by your side. That it could last. That it could always feel that way. You decided to let yourself believe it.

“Now who’s being domestic?” you prodded. 

“Don’t get used to it,” he repeated with a smirk.

“Too late.”

… . …

Together, you’d prepared a salad of mixed greens with a light dressing and pasta filled with crisp veggies accompanied by fresh bread you’d picked up at the farmer’s market. 

An hour or so later, little remained of the meal.

Javier wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d polished off two generous helpings by himself. While he occasionally had something on hand at his apartment, it had been a while since he’d had a decent home cooked meal. For some reason it was even better knowing you’d made it together. As he was quickly realizing, he’d do anything with you. 

The two of you still sat side by side long after you finished eating. You were turned in your seat so that your feet were perched on the edge of his chair, toes tucked under his thigh. You idly picked at the remains of the baguette, tearing off pieces of the crusty bread to soak up the last of the oil and balsamic mixture. Sunny sat at his feet, patiently waiting for him to sneak another scrap of food. You’d remarked that he was spoiling her, but he found it increasingly difficult to ignore her pleading eyes. The two of you had that in common.

You traced a finger along the rim of your empty glass, the red wine long-gone, and hummed along to the music that still played in the background. In that moment, he couldn’t have taken his eyes off of you if he tried. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t anything particularly special about that singular moment. You were just… there. Existing beside him. And it was perfect.

Your eyes flicked toward him. Abandoned your wine glass, you leaned toward him and draped an arm across his shoulders, effectively pulling him from his reverie. “What are you thinking, Javi?”

“This was a good day,” he mumbled softly. 

“Yeah,” you smiled, “I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one’s life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier help each other through a hectic week of final exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I promised the next update wouldn’t take a month? My bad. I think it’s probably obvious at this point that fic updates will be scattered and random compared to a few months ago. For those who might not know, I started my PhD program this fall and now everything is entirely dependent on my school schedule which is chaos at best. I will be a tease though and warn you that these two are going to slut it up in the next chapter so… 😏
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me. I love you all to pieces. 
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** References to sexual content and a little fooling around that's honestly pretty tame by this story’s standards. Mild language. 18+ only.

“Why are you eating by yourself?”

At the sound of his voice, your head snapped up from the container resting on your lap still mostly full of reheated leftovers you seemed to only be absentmindedly pushing around with your fork. You looked almost dazed, as if you’d forgotten where you were. 

“Oh, um, apparently Beverly is stuck at home with two sick kids,” you explained, shaking yourself out of your fog. “I just needed to get out of my office.”

Javier nodded slowly before quirking a brow. “Mind if I join you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” you answered, trying to hide the smile pulling at your lips with a bite of your lunch. 

“Thought you might be tired of me,” he said as he sat down next to you. Considering the two of you’d spent the entire weekend together, from Friday afternoon to that very Monday morning, at your too-small apartment, it wasn’t an impossibility.

“Not yet,” you quipped with that irresistible smirk he’d grown so fond of. “I’ll let you know when that happens.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Javier retorted as he leaned back against the bench, the old wood creaking under his weight. Relived to be finished with class for the day, he loosened his tie and flicked open the top button of his shirt. There was a new chill in the gentle breeze blowing across campus, but he didn’t mind. Only in the middle of December had the seasons finally changed in Los Angeles. You, on the other hand, looked quite snug in the thick cable knit sweater you’d pulled out of the back of your closet that morning. The color suited you, bringing out a certain glimmer in your eyes as he caught you watching his movements. He decided not to tease you for it that time. Not when he knew he was looking at you the exact same way. “I was actually on my way to your office,” he continued, clearing his throat and trying to get a grip on himself.

“And why’s that?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d look over my final exams before I sent away for class sets.”

You couldn’t hide your grin that time. Not when it was the kind of smile that stretched across your face and touched your eyes. “I’d be happy to. You know I love helping you.” You reached for his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. It was nothing more than a quick gesture meant to go unnoticed but convey something meaningful. Something comforting and reassuring. But when you started to move away, he held on and brought your hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against your skin.

“Javier,” you breathed incredulously. You slipped your hand out of his grasp and swatted his shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Relax. No one’s paying attention today,” he murmured, nodding toward the quad where students rushed between lecture halls and libraries. Most carried a to-go cup of coffee. Some still had their noses buried in books. It was the last week of the quarter and everyone was stressed and, doubtlessly, dreading finals.

You glanced back at him out of the corner of your eye. “You’re trouble, Javier.”

“You like it.”

“Against my better judgement,” you sighed.

A smile passed between the two of you, but yours quickly faded along with the usual banter as your gaze fell to your sad excuse for a lunch. Javier sensed that even though you were sitting right next to him, your mind was a million miles away.

“What’s bothering you, _compañera_?” he asked, drawing you back out of your thoughts.

“What? Nothing,” you answered much too quickly. He waited for you to continue, watching you carefully as you capped the container as tossed it back into your bag. You blew out a deep breath and finally offered a truthful answer. “Just… everything. Finals, book deadlines – all of it.”

Your frustration was understandable. Not only were you teaching the same number of classes that he was, but you had a dozen other commitments within the department alone. And you still had to submit the first three chapters for your book that week. You’d been up late typing away most nights, leaving him alone in your bed with the dog until he physically pulled you away from your work. But if anyone could handle it, it was you. “You and I both know you finished those book edits weeks ago,” he offered. “You’re just overthinking it now. You could submit those chapters today and be fine.”

You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it. “Probably,” you reluctantly acquiesced. He took that for what it was: a win.

“And I’m pretty sure you finished writing your exams last night in bed when you woke up to fix question five or whatever the hell you were going on about. Or did I dream that?”

“No,” you laughed and your whole body seemed to relax. “That was real.”

“I thought so,” he said with a smile.

“I know I stress myself out more than necessary. It’s just hard not to.” You closed your eyes and rubbed your temples. “I frustrate the hell out of myself sometimes.”

“You have high expectations for yourself and you're dedicated to your work. That’s not a bad thing. I like that about you,” he said gently.

Your eyes blinked open at his words. “I like that about you too, Javier.”

He ignored that warm sensation that filled his chest at that. “How can I help you?” he asked sincerely. Based on the way your eyes widened and your lips parted at the question you, he’d bewildered you. He knew you were woefully unused to asking for help, so he half expected you to brush it off. And you did. “I’m serious,” he tried again.

“Honestly? You already have.”

That time, when your hand found his, your fingers laced together with his and stayed that way.

… . …

When you stepped up to the podium at the start of class – the _last_ lecture of the quarter – you were surprised to find a small folded paper waiting for you. Javier and his students were long gone. No doubt he’d done what most professors do on the last day of class: go over exam expectations, answer a few last-minute questions, and end class early. You wouldn’t admit it freely but that was essentially your plan for the day.

What shocked you wasn’t the note but the fact that he’d dared to leave unattended and in the open for anyone to find. You reach for it and immediately feel hot. You know you should put it away to read later, when you weren’t standing in front of a lecture hall full of students, but if there was one thing you knew with absolute certainty, it was that when it came to Javier Peña, you couldn’t help yourself.

It wasn’t what you were expecting.

 _Gracias por todo, mi compañera_ _._

Smiling to yourself, you tucked your new favorite note safely away with the others.

… . …

“The short answer shouldn’t take more than forty minutes which leaves an hour and twenty minutes to complete the essay portion. That should be more than enough time,” Javier explained as he counted out enough exams for the first row of seats. He handed the stack of papers to the first student and moved on to the next. “If you didn’t bring a blue book, well, I don’t really give a fuck. Find something to write on.”

A round of laughter sounded through the hall that seemed to help to ease the pre-exam tension. One of the more outspoken students who always seemed to have an answer to all of Javier’s questions raised his hand. Javier stopped his counting and waited for him to speak. “Do you prefer blue or black ink, professor?”

“Someone else answer Mr. Patel’s question,” he drawled, resuming his counting.

“I don’t think he gives a fuck,” a young woman shouted from the back of the room.

“Extra credit for Miss Diaz,” he deadpanned.

“Really?” she asked, perking up in her seat.

“Of course not.” She slumped back against her seat but seemed to find it amusing all the same.

He returned to the front of the room, tossing the extra exams on the small table next to the podium, and addressed the class again. “No one is going to need any extra credit. You’ll all do fine,” he assured his students. And aside from the one or two new faces he hadn’t seen all quarter, he actually believed that. “Time starts now,” he announced with a quick glance at his watch.

It struck Javier then, as he looked out at the students already hastily scrawling out answers to his questions, that he’d actually survived the first quarter. Only eleven weeks ago he’d stood at the front of that very lecture hall without, as he’d be the first to admit, a fucking clue.

And then you happened.

Hell, his entire life changed in those eleven weeks.

He really needed to find a way to thank you.

 _Properly_.

… . …

Your last exam for the week was scheduled for late on a Friday afternoon.

As if the quarter wasn’t long enough already, the universe conspired against you to draw it out to the bitter end and give you the least amount of time possible to submit the final grades.

Sighing to yourself, you trudged up the narrow stairwell to your third-floor apartment, hauling a tote filled with exam booklets in addition to your perpetually heavy work bag, feeling overwhelmed and overworked. And hungry.

So fucking hungry.

When you swung the front door open, the last thing you expected was to be hit with the scent of savory and Javier greeting you with a kiss as he took you bags from you. “Just in time,” he remarked.

In time for what?” you asked with a disbelieving look even as you eyed the stack of takeout containers on your dining table. You slipped off your jacket before following him into the studio, acknowledging an excited Sunny on your way. You’d left the two of them on your couch this afternoon as he worked on his own grading and you’d fully expected to find them in the same spot when you returned.

“Dinner. I picked up your favorite from that place on the corner.”

“Really?” Javier responded with a shrug as if it was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t. In some strange way, it was almost routine. Lately, he always ended up at your place because it was closer to campus and you always needed to check on Sunny. A little over a week ago, you’d given him the spare key, claiming convenience and dismissing any sentimental implications that some might ascribe to the gesture. Bev, of course, had been quick to list them all for you when you reluctantly asked her for her copy of the key. This sort of thing was becoming normal. But since your conversation the week before, he’d done everything he could to make your life easier and perhaps you shouldn’t have been so astonished by a takeout dinner at home, but the novelty had yet to wear off. “It’s not much,” he deflected as he pulled your chair out for you.

“I disagree. I think it’s the perfect finals week date night.”

He smiled at you almost shyly as he took his seat next to you. When he spoke, there was a slight hesitation in his voice. “I was thinking–”

“This should be good.”

He shot you a look but otherwise ignored your comment. If anything, you noticed that when he spoke again, he sounded more assured. “I was thinking that when I get back from Texas and before classes start again, we should do something. Anything. Whatever you want. But something… something special. I want to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me these past few months.”

Heat bloomed in your chest at the sentiment, but his offer seemed unnecessary. You’d always helped him because you genuinely wanted to not because you expected something in return. “You don’t–”

“I want to,” he said firmly, leaving no room for objection. “Look,” he continued on an exhale, “grand romantic gestures aren’t really my thing, but I want to do something for you. You tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

“Anything?” you asked with a playful smirk.

He nodded. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“I expect you to come up with something good.”

You smiled as you turned your attention to the containers of food, helping yourself to a little of everything as Javier did the same.

“Hey, Javi,” you said in your sweetest voice before popping a dumpling into your mouth. He hummed out a _what_ around a forkful of rice. “I think I like it when you romance me.”

He stared at you as he chewed, feigning annoyance. It was the slight quirk of his mouth gave him away. “Eat your food before I give it to the dog.”

It was an idle threat from the beginning and his grin – one of those perfect smiles that crinkled around his eyes – when you fell into a fit of laughter only proved it.

… . …

A few hours later, well into the dark winter night, you were sprawled out on your bed sorting through exams and essays. You settled on grading essays first and fished a red pen out of your nightstand. You’d vehemently denied having ever graded in bed when Javier accused you of it upon finding a stash of red pens in that drawer on one of his first nights at your place. Unsurprisingly, he’d seen right through you.

Now, you peered over at him where he reclined against the headboard as his eyes scanned the exam in his hand. Every now and then he made a quick tick mark with his own red pen. You wondered, not for the first time, if you’d ever wrap your mind around the idea that what was once a lonely, mundane part of your job didn’t have to be anymore. That, somehow, you’d contently settled into a relationship with a man who wanted to do those things with you.

Despite knowing you desperately needed to get to work, you let your eyes linger, admiring him for a moment longer. He wore nothing more than a pair of black briefs and an olive-green shirt that practically made his skin glow. His face was a little scruffy – you’d only just noticed the night before when he was between your legs – and his hair was uncharacteristically unkempt. Still, it was a look you were determined to enjoy while it lasted.

“ _¿Cómo puedo ayudarte, compañera?_ ” Javier mumbled without looking up from his work until he’d circled a letter grade at the top of the page. He capped his pen before resting his hand against your bare leg. Like him, you’d hardly bothered to redress after he’d first taken you to bed, opting instead for little more than a soft grey sweatshirt with _UCLA_ embroidered across the front.

“I was thinking about making a cup of tea,” you answered truthfully but as a lame attempt to cover your staring “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’ve got it,” he answered with a gentle pat on your thigh. You didn’t bother protesting; he was already up and halfway to the kitchen.

He returned a few minutes later, placing a steaming mug of mint tea in your hands before returning to his side of the bed.

“Thank you,”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Try again.” He shot you a baffled look. “You ruined that endearment forever. Or do you not remember our first meeting?”

Javier rolled his eyes at you but acquiesced. “Honey?” he offered, voice dripping with sarcasm. You nodded your approval. “Well, you’re welcome, honey.”

“That’s better,” you said returning your attention to your mess of papers.

“It was our second meeting,” he corrected a few minutes later. “First I spilled coffee all over you.”

“Right before the faculty back to school breakfast.” You smiled at him as you sipped your tea. “How could I forget?”

“I couldn’t,” he started as he leaned over to place a quick kiss on your lips, still curved in a smile. “That was an important day.”

“Yeah, it was,” you agreed as you lost yourself in the warm depths of his eyes. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, but Javier seemed unusually sentimental that day. But then again, maybe you were too. You forced yourself to look away from him. “We should really get back to work.”

“You were right. This is worse than taking finals,” he grumbled, flipping through the stack of essays. “I mean look at this.” He held the papers up. And you raised your equally thick pile in response. His head fell back against the headboard.

“ _Pobrecito_ ,” you cooed as you scratched along his scruff. You knew you earned the scathing look that followed. “You should ask for a TA next quarter. I’m sure the department will bend over backwards to find someone for you. Shouldn’t be too hard considering half the sociology students would sign their souls away to work with you.”

“You know, I actually don’t mind the work.”

“That’s because you’re a workaholic, Javi.”

“That’s why we work well together.”

“How about we take a break?” you suggested. He set his mug down on the nightstand and flung his stack of papers off to the side. You laughed before clarifying. “Let’s take a walk.”

“That’s not what I thought you meant.”

“Clearly. But Sunny needs to go out and the fresh air will do us both good.”

He pouted. Actually _pouted_ at you. You leaned back over the bed and pressed your lips to his. “Only good professors get their dicks sucked and I know you’ve hardly been working for the last half hour.”

His jaw shifted as he narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re sitting around half naked. Makes it difficult to focus.”

He came up behind you, hands sliding underneath the sweatshirt to palm your breasts. You instinctively arched into his touch as your eyes fell shut. “You sure you don’t want to stay?” he teased.

“I’m sure.”

“Really?” He rolled both of your peaked nipples between his fingers, sending an almost painful shock of pleasure straight to your core and eliciting a breathy yelp from you. “I want you to do something for me,” he whispered against the shell of your ear.

“What’s that?” you asked, you voice hitching as he continued his ministrations.

“I want you to touch yourself and tell me how wet you just got.”

“You’re not that good,” you huffed out. He repeated the motion and you couldn’t stop the mewl that escaped you. He always knew just how you needed to be touched.

“Indulge me, honey,” he rasped. You could feel him watching you over your shoulder as your hand dipped beneath the band of your panties and into your wet folds. “Let me see,” he demanded softly. You held your hand up for him, your fingers coated in your slick. “That’s what I thought.” Wrapping a hand around your wrist, he brought your fingers to his mouth, slipping them past his lips to taste you.

“Nice try, Javi, but you haven’t changed my mind.” He just laughed good natured and light, watching you as you redressed and gathered Sunny’s things. “You know, this is our last night for grading, so we have to actually work.”

“Grades aren’t due until Monday.”

“True, but you leave Sunday afternoon and the holiday party is tomorrow night.”

Javier groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. “Just how I want to spend our last night together.”

“It won’t be too bad. It used to be just for the faculty but now it’s basically a donor event so it’s pretty ritzy. And the drinks are free. Plus, you’ll get to see me all dressed up.”

“I’d rather see you undressed.”

“I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” you simpered. “I picked out something special just for you.”

A look of boyish mischief fell over his face. “I can’t wait.”

… . …

Drifting in between consciousness and a dream, you rolled over, searching for that familiar warmth you so craved. But when your hand found only empty space and cold sheets you woke with a start. You sat up, straining to see anything in the dark room. By the faint light of a waning moon, you could just trace Javier’s profile, the curve of his aquiline nose unmistakable even in the dark. With a shoulder leaning against the wall, he stared out the window, his eyes hidden from you and fixed on something you couldn’t see.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured without even turning to you. You wondered how long he’d been standing there.

You flicked on the small lamp on your nightstand, illuminating the room with an unnatural yellow glow. When he finally met your gaze, the light only made the crease between his brows and the lines beneath his eyes all the more pronounced. You waited with bated breath for him to speak again. Instead, he just regarded you with haunted eyes.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m not tired.”

There was an edge to his voice that your sleep addled brain couldn’t place. As far as you knew, Javier had never lied to you before. That felt too damn close, but it wasn’t what mattered.

“You look tired, Javier,” you pushed back.

You watched each other for a long time, both waiting for the other to make their next move. As if waiting to see who would say the wrong thing first. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what was going on inside him mind. In that moment, you were worried about him – and struck by just how much that pained you. The truth was you cared deeply about him. So much so that sometimes it scared you. This thing between you still felt new. You were both still figuring out how much of yourselves you were going to share with the other. What you were going to let the other see. This felt like something you weren’t supposed to witness. Some errant thought forced its way through the fog of sleep still clouding your mind and told you to be careful with what you said next. “Come– Come to bed, Javi. Please?” you tried again, purposefully softening your tone. “For me?”

He turned back to the window and your heart collapsed in your chest. But just as you reigned yourself to a restless sleep, he pulled the curtains shut and returned to bed, wordlessly slipping between your sheets.

It gave you a glimmer of hope. Your hands sought him out on their own soothing across his bare chest and shoulders where his muscles were unbelievably coiled beneath your palms as you soothed. His heart beat steady rhythm that was certainly faster than it should’ve been.

“You know you can tell me,” you pleaded softly, fingertips gently tracing the lines of his face before moving to tilt his chin up, forcing him to look at you. He’d always made you feel safe to share the parts of yourself and your life that you kept from everyone else and you desperately wanted to do the same for him. “You can tell me anything.”

His only response was to switch off the light, effectively ending what was hardly more than a one-sided conversation.

That simple act stung. More than it probably should’ve. Either Javier didn’t believe you when you said he could trust you or he just didn’t want to, and you weren’t sure which was worse. It’d been such a nice evening. Only a few hours ago the two of you had been laughing together and working side by side. You didn’t understand what the hell had happened between falling asleep wrapped up in each other and _this_.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Go back to sleep.”

 _Liar_.

The accusation sat heavy on the tip of your tongue. But you knew that one more word from either of you would result in something neither of you wanted. There was no sense in starting a fight with him at two in the morning. So, you did what little you could.

You held him a little tighter that night.

And tried to tell yourself that him shutting you out didn’t cut as deeply as much as it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Translations  
>  _Gracias por todo_ : thank you for everything  
>  _Cómo puedo ayudarte_ : How can I help you  
>  _Pobrecito_ : poor thing
> 
> ... . ...
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin._ the course of one’s life.
> 
> In this chapter, you and Javier attend the holiday party for the social sciences’ faculty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My semester is finally winding down and I actually had time to write! I missed you all and missed this story. I hope this chapter makes the extra-long wait worth it. I'm hoping to have two more chapters out by NYE since this all aligns so nicely with the holiday season. Sending lots of love!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – explicit sexual content, public sex, roughish sex, cumshot, praise kink, orgasm denial, orgasm control/edging, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk. Mentions of alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.

Unsurprisingly, things were tense the next morning

Javier was up before you but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Although considering it was a quarter past seven you wondered how much sleep the man could’ve gotten. What was surprising was that you woke alone.

Then you ate breakfast together _in silence_ . Moved about your 400 square foot studio _in silence_ . Worked across the dining table grading papers _in silence_.

Javier was never an overly talkative person but that was unlike him. It was unlike the two of you. You knew there were things from his past that troubled him. Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The longer you’d known him, the more time you spent together, the more you felt his sadness. But he seemed determined to hide it from you.

However, you couldn’t dwell on it. Not until you’d finished grading exams and assigned final grades and could put the fall quarter behind you. With a Monday deadline, work came first.

Eventually, Javier finished his grading. He gathered his things to go home and dress for the faculty party that evening, leaving you with just a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pick you up at six. You hummed noncommittally as you watched him leave.

Sunny whined at the closed door before looking over her shoulder at you with a silent question in her wide brown eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong either,” you answered with a shrug. She laid down where she was, head on her paws and a rather sad expression of her face.

… . …

By some miracle, you were able to focus long enough to finish your grading with enough time to spare to get ready for a night out. At 5:58 you walked out of your building into the dark evening and found Javier waiting for you at the bottom of the stoop. It was a chilly night and you pulled your wool coat tighter around you as you closed the last bit of distance between the two of you. For the first time that day, as he held his hand out to you, he smiled. It was nothing more than a slight pull at the corner of his lips, but it was _something_.

You took his hand and let him lead you toward his car. When he reached into his coat pocket, presumably in search of his keys, he pulled out a half-finished pack of Nicorette. He tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“Why did you do that?” you asked without thinking.

He shrugged as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. “I don’t need it.”

You made no move to get in. “I thought you were trying to quit.”

“I… I did.”

“Really?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement.

“I haven’t needed it for a couple of weeks now actually.”

“Javi, that’s amazing,” you smiled as you brought him to you for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. “I’m so proud of you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah,” you said easily. He still didn’t seem to believe you. You continued tentatively, afraid you might say the wrong thing but needing to say something all the same. “Sometimes I just– I feel like I don’t actually know that much about you. Or, I should say, about your past. And I don’t need to know anything more than what you want to tell me,” you added quickly. “But I see you. I see you trying to be a better man. Everyday.” Your hands moved on their own accord to cup his freshly shaved cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I–” Javier opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage more than that single syllable.

Instead, he stared at you. You might’ve crossed some unspoken line, but you didn’t care. You’d meant everything that you said. His eyes shifted away as he stared at something past you for a drawn-out moment. “Come here,” he finally managed, and he pulled you into his embrace. The two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the few people out and about walk around you. “You’re too good for me, _compañera_.”

“I know,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. His fingers dug into your sides and you laughed. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

He sighed heavily. “I’d rather have one good night with you before I leave. I’m not going to see you for more than two weeks.”

Deciding not to question it, you put it out of your mind. Maybe what happened was a one off. Still, you pulled back and scowled at him. “Then stop being such a….”

“An asshole?”

“Exactly.”

He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You gonna make it up to me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

A chill shot down your spine at the insinuation. “Good,” you smirked, “so do I.”

… . …

The country club was only a short drive past the university and up into the hills amongst rows of gated mansions. Slipping out of the car before the valet approached, you darted in ahead of Javier. The bubble that the two of you were living in still didn’t extend to work, not entirely. Not beyond fucking in your offices and occasionally brushing hands under the table at faculty meetings.

Inside, the already gilded ballroom was draped in silver and gold holiday decorations from ceiling to floor. Every inch sparkled and shone in the chandelier light. Your colleagues from across the school of social sciences crowed the hall, all dressed to the nines with glasses of champagne and _hors-d’œuvre_ topped with caviar in their hands.

You politely made your rounds before you found yourself conversing with Debra by the bar as you waited for a cocktail. She was her usual gossipy self, going on and on about the latest office drama. That was when you first spotted Javier amongst the crowd.

He wore a well-fitted black suit – one that was significantly more flattering than some of his older ones and you idly wondered if it was new – with a white shirt, forgoing a tie so that his tanned chest was still exposed, even on a winter night. His dark hair was styled just enough to keep it off his face. Even from across the room, you could see the glimmer in his warm brown eyes as he chatted away with someone. You were surprised when he walked right up to Rafael Garcia, one of the younger professors from the political science department. You watched as they shook hands and he was introduced to his wife, noting the genuine smile on his face.

“We just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago but it’s going well so far. I really like him.” Deb’s voice brought you back to the present.

“That’s nice,” you replied absentmindedly.

“What about you, doc?”

“What? Oh, no. I don’t have time for something like that.” You waved her off, but your eyes still followed Javier across the room. You tried to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“That’s a shame.” Debra looked out at the crowd and sighed. “He never flirts with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“Your new boyfriend?”

“No,” she laughed and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Javier,” she answered, lowering her voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Although you hoped it wasn’t that obvious who you’d been looking at. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Sure, but Javier was always fun to flirt with. It certainly made work more interesting. You know,” she took a sip of her martini, “the two of you seem awfully friendly lately. I thought you hated him.”

“I do,” you answered quickly.

“Well, don’t let Dr. Campbell hear you speak ill about his favorite lecturer.” She raised her brows over her class as the department chair approached the two of you. You stifled a sigh.

… . …

Javier sipped at his drink as he listened to Sofia Garcia regal him with the story of how she met her husband. He’d hardly spoken to the man before than night, but after five minutes with his loquacious wife, he felt like he knew his whole life story.

“I played on the Mexican women’s national team for a few years after college until I injured my knee. But it was a blessing. I was offered a coaching position here a week later and by the end of my first season we were engaged.” She held up her left hand where a modest diamond sat on her ring finger. “That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now he’s the only one who plays soccer.”

“Yeah,” Rafael scoffed, “I play in an adult league with my cousin and some old college friends. That hardly counts. She’s the real athlete.” He looked fondly on his wife who beamed back at him. Even Javier had to admit they made a handsome couple. And it had nothing to do with his expensive looking suit or her champagne dress. It was something about the way they looked at each other. they were easily better conversationalists than most of the people in that room. You weren’t kidding when you said academics only knew how to talk about journal articles and research funding. “You ever play, Peña? We’re actually looking for one more.”

Javier shook his head. “I played when I was a kid but that was a long fucking time ago.”

“Don’t worry, man, it’s not that serious. We drink the whole game. All you gotta do is pay for the keg when it’s your turn.”

Javier laughed, surprised by his answer. “I could get on board with that.”

The conversation moved on, but Javier was only half aware of whatever question he was being asked. Just over Rafael’s shoulder, he caught sight of you. With a red dress with thin straps draped across your form that left everything and nothing to the imagination, you looked… alluring.

“Hey, uh, you look like you could use a refill,” Rafael commented, pointing toward the bar where you were standing.

“Yeah,” Javier nodded, “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you, Sofia.”

“I hope to see you around, Javier.” She smiled kindly at him, but Javier was already on the move, swiftly cutting through the crowd as he contemplated the ways that he could get you alone.

“Whiskey. Dry,” he ordered, leaning against the bar next to you.

“How are you enjoying the evening, Professor Peña?” Debra simpered.

“Much better now that I’m talking to you lovely ladies,” he answered without missing a beat.

On cue, Debra’s whole face flushed bright red.

“I’ll have you know I’m spoken for now. Your charm won’t work on me anymore.”

“That’s too bad.” His eyes slid to you. And then up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?” He offered you the perfect set up on a silver platter. And you took it.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Peña,” you shot back. His lips quirked as he repressed a smile.

“Don’t you two ever get tired of antagonizing each other?” Debra scoffed before traipsing off. He was hoping that would work.

The bartender placed Javier’s drink on the counter and then he turned back to you, still admiring your dress. Now that he was near you, he noticed the fabric was a soft red velvet he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on.

“You looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Rafael.”

“He does some interesting work on South American politics,” he offered distractedly, his eyes snapped back up to yours. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to dance.”

You reeled back a little, as if the question surprised you. “Probably not. That might ruin the whole facade of me hating you.” He made a sour face as he looked at his glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid a few times. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the dancing type, Javi.”

He grinned. “I love dancing.”

“You never take me dancing.”

“Fucking shame. I’m gonna start.” You beamed at him, uncaring, just for a moment, who saw. It was a smile nothing short of dazzling. He took a step closer. “You look stunning.”

“You drove me here.”

“I thought you were stunning then too. But you were wearing a coat and I didn’t get to see this.” He ran the back of his knuckles down the fabric of your dress just over that sensitive spot on your side he liked so much. “You were right. This is definitely worth it.”

“What if I told you there’s more,” you said unaffectedly, feigning interest in your empty glass. The mischievous look in your eyes when they met his confused expression gave you away. Gently, you brought his hand to your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and his fingers instantly hooked around the strap of the garter belt holding your sheer stockings in place.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What a way to go,” you cooed. His hand traveled up the strap to the apex of your thighs where he found little more than a thin piece of lace below the belt. “Careful,” you warned him, pushing his hand away.

Turning so that his body pinned you between him and the bar top and shielded you from the rest of your colleagues, he grasped your hand and brought it to the front of his pants “Can you feel what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Your smile was absolutely _wicked_.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is not to kiss you right now?”

“Yes.” You squeezed him through his trousers. Javier might’ve looked remarkably calm, but he knew you felt his reaction. He steeled himself as he finished his drink and set the glass on the counter behind you.

“Follow me.”

… . …

Keeping a few steps behind him, you followed Javier back to the front of the club. You assumed he was leading you out to the car but apparently, he had something else in mind. He swung open the door to the coat check, since abandoned by the clerk now that all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. With some idea of what he had in mind, you hoped no one was inclined to leave early.

His mouth was on yours in an instant and as soon as the door was shut, you were pressed up against it.

“The coat closet at the holiday work party?” you asked in between fevered kisses. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“Honey,” he murmured against your neck as his lips moved lower and lower, “I know for a fact it turns you on when we fuck in public.”

His hand slipped underneath your dress again, following the same path as earlier, and he pressed his fingers against the lace covering your cunt, now soaked with your arousal. He pulled away to raise a brow at you, daring you to contradict him.

Instead, you palmed him again, finding him harder than before. “I’m not the only one,” you shot back. With your eyes locked on his, you dropped to your knees to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then you leaned forward to slowly pull the zip down – with your teeth.

“Fuck me” he gasped around a ragged exhale, his hips automatically bucking toward you. He watched you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, before he hauled you to your feet with a hand on either arm. “Fucking dirty girl.”

“Wanna be _your_ dirty girl, Javi,” you sighed, batting your lashes at him. You wanted him unraveled and unrestrained.

“Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice, and you nodded, satisfied with the response you’d gotten from him. Before you realized what he was doing, he spun you around and hiked your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch around your waist.

“Hey, be careful. This dress is vintage.”

He just laughed against your ear. “You should’ve thought of that before you started _this_.” With one hand on your hip to hold you up, he kicked each of your ankles to prompt you to spread your legs before hooking a finger under the band of your thong and sliding them to the side. “Damn,” he growled when his fingers met your wet cunt. “I think you’re ready for me.”

“I was ready for you the moment I saw you tonight,” you answered truthfully. 

You felt his grin as he kissed the nape of your neck. He freed his cock and ran the tip through your folds. You knew better than to tell him not to tease you. That was part of it. That was what he enjoyed. He wanted you so strung out by the time he slipped inside you that you were already a mess and he knew just how to get you there. And that was exactly where you wanted to go.

He started to press inside you, slowly stretching you around him with each inch, and you delighted in the slight burn. Usually, he spent more time preparing you, but there was no time for that. Not when you were just hoping to finish fucking each other before someone came to collect their belongings.

You were wet and ready for him, but you were unable to stop the yelp that escaped you as he pushed in a little further.

“Quiet,” he snapped. Then, softly, he asked, “are you okay?”

You nodded. “It just takes a minute sometimes. You’re so big, Javi.” You felt him twitch inside you.

“You take me so well. This cunt was made for me.” Your ego burned bright at his praise and he slid in a bit more as you relaxed around him.

He held you, gently caressing you while you adjusted in what you assumed was a merciful act of patience. When you were ready, you rolled your hips to encourage him.

“Keep – _shit_ – keep doing that. Feels so good on my dick.” You could imagine the debauched look on his face. You reveled in it even though you couldn’t see him. He reached around you to cup your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit and following your movements as you circled your hips. You moaned in unison.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for Javier.

“Hold on to something.”

His warning came just a moment too late. With a gasp, you fell forward clawing at the coats in front of you and fisting an expensive looking black peacoat in hopes of staying upright as he set a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck yes!” you whined.

“Are you even trying to stay quiet?” Javier hissed.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Fucking liar.” You heard the smirk.

The hand playing with your clit moved to your mouth and he slipped two fingers past your lips. It effectively muffled your noises of pleasure as he pulled you down hard on his cock with every thrust. The only sound was the wet noise of him sliding in and out of your slick cunt and the slap of your stocking-covered thighs as they bounced against his. You felt that delicious pressure deep in your belly, right between your thighs, building steadily.

Until you heard a noise just outside the door and the two of you froze.

Without pulling out of you, Javier held you to his chest. As if that would somehow help. You could feel his heart beating against your back just as your own threatened to break through your ribs. Two sets of wide eyes watched the doorknob, waiting for any sign that someone on the other side was about to turn it. You held your breath as you listened carefully to the low voices murmuring, unable to tell who they belonged to or what they were saying. It was like they were hovering just outside the door. Taunting you.

Just as you were about to suggest redressing and making a run for it, Javier started moving in and out of you as a torturously slow pace. Despite the voices nearby, a small whimper escaped you. He shushed you gently. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered.

“But–”

“You wanted this.”

“Javi–”

“You wouldn’t have worn this” –he fingered the garter belt– “if you didn’t want to end up just like this.”

He was right, of course.

“What if–”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” You had no idea what he thought he was going to do if someone did catch the two of you, but he seemed confident enough for the both of you. Coupled with the easy rock of his hips, you relaxed into his hold. The truth was, as much as you liked the freedom of your home, you missed this. This thrill that you trusted only him to give you.

As soon as the conversation faded away, he resumed his previous pace, punching the air right out of your lungs.

“Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, forgetting the precarious situation you were in only moments ago. The coil in your belly tightened as you neared your crest, and you could tell by his less than precise movements that Javier just as close. And then, right as you were about to fall apart on his cock–

Javier pulled out and spun you back around in one swift movement. Before you even knew what was happening, he yanked down your panties and came all over you. Jaw dropping, you watched him work his length until every last drop was on you. White spurts of cum marked you and pooled in the black lace, already dripping down your thighs to the tops of your stockings. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out under you and stared down at the mess. Somehow, you were more turned on than before. You felt like you would actually combust from arousal. He held your panties in place for a moment, admiring his work, before letting the elastic snap against your skin and drawing your attention upward.

His breaths were jagged, stuttering and uneven. His head tilted back, and he looked down his nose at you with dark eyes that shone with something feral. Something sacrilegious. He was flushed and panting but a smirk tugged on his lips as he tucked his cock away and belted his pants. “You said you wanted to be my dirty girl.”

You swore you could feel your last brain cell short-circuiting. You were hyperaware of the errant drop sliding down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from him. “Always,” you promised quietly.

You kissed him with everything you had. Javier took it greedily.

“You’re so good for me. Letting me cum all over you,” he said breathlessly, still kissing you. “I want you to keep it all in your panties so that while you’re out there talking to those pretentious professors you can feel my cum between your legs. Okay?” You nodded and he graciously straightened your dress, letting it fall over your messy thighs. “You first.”

“But I didn’t–”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he replied quickly, apparently knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Javi,” you scolded breathlessly and pointlessly, “I– I am your good girl.”

“Not tonight. You can’t keep quiet. Do you want everyone we work with to know I’m fucking you in this god damn coat closet?” You shook your head. “Don’t worry, honey, this was just foreplay. I’m not done with you yet. Tonight, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you’re screaming my name at the top of your lungs. I can’t do that here, but I can get you ready.”

Your head buzzed.

Some filthy part of you liked that he’d cum all over you. That he wanted to do that to you. You didn’t even need to cum because it’d felt _that good_. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he planned on making up for leaving you wanting, for making a mess of you. You instinctively understood that this was part of it. That even greater pleasure waited for you if you could just be patient and... and trust him. And you did trust him. You knew he would take care of you. 

If this was going to be your last night together for weeks — after hardly spending a night apart the last month and a half — then this was just the start.

“Okay,” you agreed. “But you’re a fucking tease, Javier Peña.”

He laughed with genuine mirth in his eyes. “You started it.”

“I’ll finish it,” you promised.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

You hesitated, teasing your bottom lip with your teeth. “Do we really have to go back out there?”

“It would be rude to leave so early.” You knew he didn’t care about staying. He was just tormenting you, playing a fucked-up game that had your head spinning like crazy. “But don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll take you home and fill you up. Just the way you like it. Now be a good girl” he said with a swat on your ass, “and go out first.”

Feeling defiant, you turned around and planted a kiss on his neck, purposefully leaving a smudge of red lipstick on his crisp white collar.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“Maybe I do want everyone to know your mine.”

He wiped away the lipstick he smeared when he stuck his fingers in your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You know. That’s all I care about.”

… . …

The two of you didn’t make it another hour. Fifty-two minutes to be exact. Javier knew because he kept checking his watch only to decide that time had crept to a halt. He wanted nothing more than to take you home and finish what he’d started. Every time he glanced at you across the room, he found you squirming as you tried to keep a straight face while chatting with some colleague, and he had to look away and recompose himself.

It hadn’t been his intention to leave you wet and wanting and covered in his cum. It’d just happened in the heat of the moment. Some wild idea that he’d decided to act on. But you… you’d liked it. And so did Javier.

In reality, fifty-two minutes wasn’t that long, but it was enough time to suck up to the school’s dean. If Javier was going to be put on display as his prized lecturer for the year, he’d make him listen to him in return. Even if he had to turn up the fake charm to a ten in front of a group of wealthy alumni.

“Here she is now,” Javier said, taking a hold of your elbow as you passed by, physically dragging you into the conversation. You shot him a confused look, but he just smiled at the dean.

“Ah, yes, professor,” Dean Dalton started, “It would seem you’ve made quite the impression on Agent Peña.”

Javier elected to ignore his choice of title.

“Really? I wasn’t aware.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he could tell you were happy.

“I’ve had the privilege of reading a few chapters of her upcoming book,” Javier explained. “Trust me, you’ll want to see what she’s planning next.”

“As luck would have it, I’ve been talking to a few of our more generous donors tonight. Perhaps we should meet when classes resume to discuss how the school might be able to help your research.” The dean clinked his glass against yours and ambled off.

“What did you just do?” you asked, disbelief lacing your voice.

“I told you I would help you.”

“Oh my God… thank you,” you said softly. You stared at him for a long moment and he just held your gaze. “Will you take you home now?”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another second, you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. He followed eagerly. “Wait.” You stopped suddenly and his chest hit your back. You peered at him over your shoulder. “Don’t forget our tradition.”

He quirked a brow in silent question and your eyes flicked to the bar in response. It clicked. “Got it,” he said with a grin. He swiped the first bottle of champagne he could reach. Something so expensive he couldn’t even imagine the price tag. Something neither of you could ever afford on an academic salary.

… . …

Javier drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your knee, drawing circles on your thigh over the sheer material covering your skin. Late on a chilly December night, the streets were empty, and the drive was easy. The city was unusually peaceful.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you murmured dreamily. He squeezed your knee in response.

A few minutes later, he’d stopped at a light when you quietly said his name. He turned to you and found you staring at him. You looked relaxed and happy. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight. All dressed up for me,” you offered sweetly. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

“How much did you have to drink?” he deflected.

“One drink hours ago. Nice try, but I’m sober.” You laughed but your teasing tone gave way to something softer. “You really are the most beautiful man.”

In his periphery, the light changed, bathed the inside of the car in a bright green light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful face. Not when such an open, vulnerable sincerity graced your features.

“The light’s green,” you whispered.

“I know.”

A small smile broke out on your face.

… . …

Behind you, Javier trailed soft, lazy kisses along the slope of your neck as he slowly unzipped your dress, letting it hang loose around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he smoothed his hands down your exposed back, thumbs gently digging into your flesh to massage your tired muscles. Every kiss, every touch, stoked the fire he’d ignited inside you hours ago.

“Let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. You slipped the straps over your shoulders and the fabric pooled at your feet. Then you reached for the clasp of your bra. “Leave it. I’ll take it off when I want to.” You bit back a devilish smile as he continued his ministrations. His lips followed his hands down your spine, and you gasped when he placed a kiss on the small of your back.

“Can’t decide how I want you first,” he mused.

“I want your mouth on me.”

He kneaded the flesh of your ass as he placed the lightest kiss on one cheek. “It is.”

“Not there.”

At your complaint, he snapped the garter belt strap so it stung against your flesh. But a firm hand on your back urged you forward until you were kneeling on the bed and he mouthed your cunt through the lace. “Here?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Yes,” you moaned, desperate for more.

“Maybe I should clean the mess I made on your pussy.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the fabric away and sealed his mouth over your hot, wet core, drawing an inarticulate slew of curses from you.

Hands gripping the backs of your thighs right at the tops of your stockings, he alternated between sucking on your clit, teasing the little bundle of nerves between his lips, and fucking you with his tongue. The constantly changing pressure was as intoxicating as it was frustrating — it was never enough but plenty to keep you hovering right on the cusp.

Until he finally – _finally_ – gave you what you needed most.

Holding a steady pace as he flicked his tongue over your clit, Javier pushed you right over the edge.

Unable to breath, unable to move, unable to even think, you sobbed, cunt still pulsing around nothing, when he unceremoniously flipped you over and entered you. He slid into your dripping heat easily. And somehow, your first orgasm rolled right into the second as his cock struck something magic inside you, sparking a whole new wave of pleasure.

“You can’t stop coming, can you?” he asked, grunting as he pounded into you.

It just kept going. And going. Wave after wave relentlessly rolling through you. Unceasing in the best way imaginable. Javier knew your body so fucking well. He was the only one who knew how to do this to you. “No,” you mewled deliriously, body still shaking under him.

He thumbed away a tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. His hand left your face to knead a lace covered breast. “You look so fucking hot.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi.”

He pulled out all the way and your hips lifted, chasing him, but he pushed your knees to your chest and shouldered between your legs. “You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“Good. I wanna feel you for days.” you said, ignoring the pang in your heart that told you that you were going to miss him.

“Fuck,” he spat. Your cunt drenched his cock as he slipped back inside, and your breath hitched as he hit deeper at the new angle.

“Right there!” you cried, arching up against him, “oh, God, right there!”

“One more. Give me one more,” Javier demanded, lacing your fingers together and pining your hands above your head, “But not until I tell you.”

You nodded eagerly, happy to give him whatever he wanted. “I get to tell you when too. Please, Javi.”

“Whatever you want baby. You fucking earned it.”

He kept slamming into you and every stroke of his cock rubbed against your inner walls perfectly. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and every vein of his thick length as he fucked you. Your third orgasm was tantalizingly within reach. You just needed his blessing, and you’d break.

“Alright, baby,” he panted as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his pelvis against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

Just like that, that tight coil inside you he’d been winding up all night snapped, and you came for a third time with a wanton cry. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as your body writhed beneath him, cunt spasming around his cock.

“I need to cum,” he ground out, voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“Ask me nicely,” you teased when your senses had returned to you just enough that you decided it was your turn to play with Javier. You wanted it to be just as good for him as he made it for you.

“Please.”

“No.”

“ _Please_.”

“No.”

“Baby, please.” Javier’s broken words trembling around the edges as he begged you. His brown eyes, eclipsed by his dilated pupils and wet around the edges, stared deeply into yours and you almost gave in.

“Don’t stop.”

He made a desperate sound but kept going, snapping his hips against yours harder and harder.

“Almost there, Javi. You’re doing so good for me,” you praised, encouraging him. His jaw clenched and you kissed his neck, sucking hard on the straining muscles. His hands gripped yours so tight it hurt, and his face screwed up as he panted with each thrust. “You can cum for me, Javi. Fill me up.”

His lips crashed against yours in a desperate gratitude, and his hips stuttered as he came hard. He gasped for breath even as your mouths moved messily together. His cock twitched inside you as he painted your cunt like you’d been patiently waiting for all evening, until his body gave out and he collapsed on top of you, still locked in an embrace.

“Was that good for you?” you asked. When you didn’t get an answer, you prodded his side. He startled, eyes suddenly blinking up at you.

“What?”

“I asked if that was good for you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was... it’s always good with you but that was...” He trailed off and you thought he might’ve actually fallen asleep on you. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. I think I fucking blacked out.”

“I didn’t know my pussy was _that_ good.”

“Are you kidding me? I fucking love your pussy.” He was positively beaming at you. He cursed with a sigh as he laid his head back on your chest and you threaded your fingers through his damp locks, holding him close while you could.

… . …

You sat half in Javier’s lap in the middle of your bed, sheets strewn about from your previous activities, both completely naked but freshly showered. He moved his mouth against yours, tasting you, drinking you in until he was as lightheaded from your kisses as from the champagne. His hands roamed your body, touching you for no real reason other than to memorize your gentle curves. One hand cupped a breast and the other squeezed your hip, both moving slowly until they met to cradle your face.

He pulled away to look at you. No fancy dress, no jewelry, no make-up. Just you.

“Still stunning,” he whispered.

You smiled softly and pressed your lips to the bridge of his nose. “Still handsome,” you countered. Chills erupted across his skin, but you mistook his reaction. “Come here.” you pulled the blankets up as you settled back against the headboard. He followed, swiping the bottle of champagne off the nightstand. Without bothering with glasses, surely a disservice to something so expensive, he took a swig and handed it to you. It was bubbly and light and perfect for the evening.

“You never told me what you’re doing for the holidays.”

“Oh, nothing much,” you responded as you took the bottle from him. “Bev’s family celebrates Christmas. They always do gifts with the kids in the morning but then her mom and in-laws and whoever else in the family is around go over for a big dinner. She insists I come to keep her sane. Her mom and mother-in-law don’t exactly get along.”

“What about New Year’s?”

You took a long pull before sighing. “Well, I usually spend the night with Sunny watching old movies and drinking too much wine.” Your face pinched. “That sounds much sadder when I say it out loud.”

“You don’t mind being alone?”

“It’s been this way for years now.” You smiled, a rueful thing. “I’m used to it. I’m usually so tired after the quarter ends that I don’t mind the time alone.” You tried to brush it off, but he could hear the sadness in your voice.

“You could–” Javier stopped himself. “You could call. Anytime. I’ll give you my dad’s home number so you can reach me.”

That time your smile reached your eyes, crinkling the corners as you looked away bashfully. “That’s really sweet of you.” You reached for his hand and added, “I’ll call you at midnight in Laredo.”

“We’ll talk until midnight in Los Angeles.”

You curled up next to him before Javier could decipher your expression.

When he felt your breathing even out, surely sated from the sex and exhausted after the quarter, he pried the bottle from your grasp. He finished the last bit before setting it aside and switching off the lamp, careful not to disturb you.

Javier held you close, not unlike the way you’d held him the night before. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He needed to protect you from his past. But he didn’t know how to do that when he couldn’t even protect himself.

He flicked off the light and hoped for a peaceful sleep.

… . …

The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the dark bruise that you’d sucked onto Javier’s neck the night before. You ran your fingertips over it, outwardly cringing but inwardly, well, preening. This time it had been you who left those little love bites on his neck.

“Did you mark me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a quiet rumble. “Fucking felt that last night.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you answered, looking up at him as innocently as possible.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled as his eyes blinked open. “You were a woman determined last night.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I liked it,” he grinned, but it faded quickly. “I forgot I was going home today. My dad’s picking me up at the airport.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed, burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t laugh. That’s not funny.”

“Maybe you should try buttoning your shirt like a normal person for once.”

In one smooth movement, he flipped you over and caged you beneath him. “You’re pushing your luck,” he tried to warn, but the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

“What time is your flight?” you asked, soothing a hand across his face.

“One.” He glanced over at the clock. “It’s ten now.”

You wondered, just for a moment, if he would stay with you if you asked him to. If he would pass the holidays with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that was foolish. And more than a little selfish. He had his family to go home to.

“You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should.”

He eased his hold on you but made no move to leave. Not until he’d placed a kiss on your lips and one on your forehead in a gentle goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one’s life.
> 
> In this chapter, Javier returns to Laredo and the two of you spend the holidays apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another holiday edition of CV and I hope that y’all are enjoying any and all holidays that you celebrate. Just to be clear, I don’t make any assumptions of what winter holidays the reader celebrates personally so I hope everyone can enjoy this. As always, thank you for reading!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – explicit sexual content, phone sex, dirty talk. References to recreational drug use and alcohol. References to PTSD. Angst. Mild language. 18+ only.

Christmas Eve was spent much like it was every year in the Peña household. Javier worked on the old barn with his father who’d assured him that a little help around the ranch was all he wanted from his son for Christmas. The traditional midnight mass was followed by a veritable feast of pozole, tamales, menudo, and a dozen other dishes prepared by his aunts. Even as she neared ninety, his _abuela_ was able to keep his plate piled with food. Hours later and he was still stuffed. The kids had opened their gifts and ran off to play, leaving the adults to drink and talk.

Javier was actually enjoying himself until one of his cousins asked – _loudly_ – about Colombia. He gave the usual, well-rehearsed answer he’d excused himself, needing a moment alone.

Behind him, the sliding glass door opened and closed, once again muffling the sound of the party. His father didn’t say anything as he took a seat on the plastic lawn chair next to Javier with a sigh. He sat two fresh beers on the table between them.

“ _ Gracias _ ,” he acknowledged. There was a wintery chill in the air, but he took the cold drink anyway. Things were quiet as they sipped at their beers and Javier tried to focus on the pinpricks of starlight dotting the expanse of black sky rather than the inevitable.

Eventually, his father spoke up.

“They’re proud of you,” Chucho started gruffly. “You’re the only one who got out of this town and did something.”

“Right,” Javier mumbled around the bottle as he took a long pull of his beer. “Can we not do this, pops?”

“You were doing really well up until that,” his father continued. Eyes narrowing, Javier glanced sideways at Chucho, but his father’s face gave nothing away. For a moment he thought that was all he would say. “Do you still have nightmares?”

Javier’s eyes closed as he grimaced. He knew he wouldn’t avoid this conversation the entire time he was home. “Yeah,” he answered after a pause. “Don’t worry about it.

“I’ve worried about you since the day you were born. Especially since you ran off to South America to chase drug lords.” He shook his head at that. “But I’ve never been more worried than when you came back. Because my son didn’t come back – not all of you.  _ ¿Qué viste allí? _ ”

“It’s not just what I saw. It's what I did,” he snapped. He felt his anger rising and forced himself to take a deep breath. His father didn’t deserve that. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You never do.” Chucho set his bottle on the table with a little more force than necessary but changed the subject. “How’s California?”

“ _ Bueno _ .” Javier nodded. “Job’s not bad. I like working with the students. And the city’s nice once you get past the traffic and the smog.” A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he thought of you dragging him around Los Angeles whenever the two of you weren’t buried in books at the library or between your bedsheets. “Things are actually good.”

“I could tell.” The plastic chair creaked as Chucho leaned back. He seemed to relax at Javier’s answer. “What’s her name?”

Javier stilled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You might be able to fool everyone else,  _ mijo _ , but you’ve never been able to lie to me. Not when you were sixteen and sneaking out to parties. Not on the rare occasion you would call and say that everything was fine in Colombia. And not now. Up until a few minutes ago, you were the happiest I’ve seen you in more than a decade.  _ ¿Quien es ella?” _

“ _ No es nada _ .” Chucho made a discontented noise and Javier reluctantly amended his answer. “She’s… she’s just someone I work with.”

“ _¿Ella es tu novia?”_ Chucho asked with a glint in his dark eyes.

“ _ Si _ ,” Javier smiled. “ _C_ __r_ eo que sí.” _

“Then it’s not nothing, is it?” his dad challenged. Javier swallowed hard and shook his head. “Why didn’t you bring her home?”

Javier barked out a laugh. Whether or not his father was serious, it brought his guard down just enough. “She’s with her friend’s family for the holidays. I– fuck, I actually thought about it, but it would’ve been too soon. This... thing is already moving faster than either of us expected.” It was more than Javier bargained for and now he was certain he was in too deep. Hell, he’d been gone nearly a week and you hadn’t so much as called. “I can’t stop it.” 

“Why would you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck as he chewed over his answer. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m going to fuck this up again. She deserves way better than me.”

“I always thought your mother deserved better too. She loved me anyway.” He gave Javier a pointed look. “Why can’t you let yourself be happy for once?”

Javier didn’t have an answer for that. He drained the rest of his bottle instead.

“If you have something good, then hold on to it,  _ mijo _ . Stop getting in the way of your own happiness. Especially after all the shit you went through,” he said sternly, leveling Javier with a familiar serious look.

“What do I do?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t answer that for you,” Chucho answered with something akin to remorse lacing his voice. As Javier looked at him, he knew his father would’ve done anything to quell his demons for him. Overwhelmed, he had to look away. “But next time you come home,” he continued in a lighter tone, “you better bring her with you. No excuses.”

“She’d like you,” Javier conceded with a smirk.

… . …

You sat at the kitchen counter watching Beverly put the finishing touches on her Christmas dessert. Dinner had been decadent enough – honey glazed ham, crisp sautéed green beans, garlicky mashed potatoes, stuffing dotted with cranberries, and brioche bread rolls – but the Bundt cake she was icing looked so delicious you knew you could find room for a slice. If she made it, it had to be good. You’d offered to help where you could, but Bev seemed content just to have you around to talk to while she cooked.

“It’s basically a Christmas miracle Henry wasn’t called into work,” she grumbled as she focused on the cake.

“Hey, don’t complain,” you said around a piece of chocolate fudge.

“You got a light, sweetie?” Beverly’s mother appeared over her daughter’s shoulder.

“Really, mom? You have to do that during Christmas dinner?” Bev said in her best mom voice, hands on her hips as she eyed her mother. 

“I do if I have to sit through dessert with that woman. You sure you don’t want a hit?” She waved the joint in front of Bev.

“Don’t tempt me,” she scowled even as she dug a lighter out of the kitchen drawer.

“You used to be cooler,” Ruth smirked.

“I’m still cool!” Ben turned to you where you were trying to sneak another piece of chocolate fudge before dessert. She smacked your hand away from the container. “I’m still cool, right?”

“Yes, mom” you answered as you tried not to laugh at her scowl.

“What about you, hon?” Ruth winked at you.

“I think I’m good,” you assured her.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re dating a narc now.”

Your jaw dropped. “Well... yes,  _ technically _ , but he’s retired.”

She waved you off. “Once a narc, always a narc. You used to be cooler too.” She called over her shoulder as she disappeared out the side door. You couldn’t help but laugh at her receding figure.

Bev, on the other hand, shook her head and drained her wine glass. “My mother,” she muttered to herself.

“Must run in the family,” you quipped. Bev actually smiled at that as she arranged a tray of the sugar cookies the kids decorated earlier that day.

“Speaking of,” she began almost cautiously, “how are things with Javier?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little sad today.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, hoping to brush her off. She raised a brow at you. “I just— I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Bev scooted the tin of fudge back across the counter toward you. “Talk.”

“I miss him,” you admitted reluctantly. You buried your face in your hands. “It’s hardly been a week, but I miss him. This is ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together a month and a half,” you mumbled into your hands, “and I’ve only known him since the start of the quarter.”

“So?”

“How can I miss him this much? It’s too much. I feel… pathetic and needy.”

“Babe, you and I both know why it’s different this time.” Confused, you let your hands fall and met her gaze, waiting for her to continue. Bev finished arranging the cookies and wiped her hands on her apron before leaning against the counter and taking your hands in hers. “It’s okay to feel like that,” she said instead of offering an explanation.

“It’s really not.”

“It is,” she stressed. Something on your face must’ve keyed her in because she tightened her grip on your before you could wriggle away. “You’ve been on your own for so long. I think you’ve forgotten what it feels like to need someone. It’s going to be uncomfortable for you, but I hope you lean into it anyway.”

“We’ll see,” you mumbled despite knowing she was probably right. Even though you’d never admit it to her, she usually was.

“How does he feel about all of this?” she asked as she swiped a piece of fudge for herself. “This is really the first time you’ve been apart since you started fu– seeing each other.” She corrected herself quickly as her son raced through the kitchen with his sister hot on his heels.

You shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Haven’t you talked to him since he left?”

“No.” Bev scrunched up her face at you and you rushed to explain. “He’s with his family. I don’t want to bother him.”

“You need to call him. If only to tell him that you miss him.”

It was your turn to make a sour face. “What if–”

“No. Don’t fucking do that,” she said sternly, pointing a finger at you to keep your mind from spiraling any more than it already had. “I bet you he’s feeling that exact same way. I’m sure of it. Promise me you’ll call him.”

“I’ll try tomorrow,” you relented.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said as she handed you the platter of cookies. She carefully picked up the cake stand and the two of you headed back into the dining room.

“I’m sure you are.”

… . …

“I know we opened gifts earlier but there’s one more. I wanted to wait until everyone was here to make the big announcement,” Henry said with a smile from the head of the table. Mid-bite, you looked to Bev who seemed just as surprised as everyone else. The table quieted and even the kids abandoned their cookies to pay attention to their father. “I’m stepping down from the firm.”

A chorus of _what?_ resounded throughout the dining room. Henry had worked at one of Los Angeles’ most prestigious firms – one known for only hiring Harvard graduates – despite attending a state school. Evidently, he was a damn good lawyer. So _that_ was probably the last thing anyone had expected him to say.

“Are you serious?” Bev gasped. “Henry, what the hell?”

“I was offered a partnership at a smaller practice,” he explained, taking his wife’s hand in his, “and I took it on the spot. I would’ve discussed it with you first, but I couldn’t say no once they promised me fewer hours and holidays and weekends off.”

“Really?” Bev looked like she was going to cry. Instead, she threw her arms around her husband and kissed him soundly, practically knocking him out of his chair. “You’d do that for us?” she asked quietly.

“I’d do anything for you,” he promised. “I want to be home with my family.”

As everyone’s shock faded, Henry was leveled with an enthusiastic round of congratulations and questions about his new position. His three kids climbed onto his lap, all excited at the prospect of spending more time with their dad. Bev beamed at him from her spot next to him the entire time and for good reason. He’d given her the only thing she ever really wanted.

Even though you only knew Henry through Bev, you’d always understood him. He’d worked hard for years and earned his spot at the top. But he seemed happy to give it all away.

An all too familiar aching, empty feeling settled inside you as you watched the happy family. You wondered what it would be like to have something you’d give up everything for.

… . …

The next morning you spent the first hour of your day struggling to set up the cordless phone Bev gifted you. She was adamant that you stop wandering past the reach of the phone mounted on your wall and dropping the receiver while you were talking to her. It’d only happened on a couple of occasions but apparently that was enough for her to want to drag you in the 90s. After you’d walked Sunny around the block and spent way too much time in the shower, you decided to stop delaying the inevitable and test out the upgraded phone.

Curling up on the couch, you unfolded the well-worn scrap of paper Javier had given you. You’d practically memorized the number, but you didn’t want to get it wrong. With a deep breath, you punched in the digits.

It rang. And rang.

Your anxiety spiked as your mind conjured up a million disaster scenarios.

What if someone else answered? What if no one answered? What if he didn’t want to talk to you? What if he didn’t miss you–

“ _ Bueno _ .”

“Javier?” you asked even though you’d recognize the sound of his smoky voice anywhere.

“ _ Compañera _ ?” He sounded relieved. And your heart soared.

Your mouth hung open for a moment as you tried to find the words to fill in the static settling between you, but every syllable felt stuck in your throat. You were overthinking it and you knew it. But this was Javier; you didn’t have to do that with him. So you forced out the truth before you could think better of it. “I miss you like crazy, Javi,” you confessed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I miss you too,” he sighed. “I miss you so fucking much. I don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

You smiled into the receiver. “It’s only been a couple days,” you teased.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I know.”

Another minute of silence passed peacefully as you reveled in his presence, uncaring that he wasn’t even physically there with you. He’d missed you as much as you’d missed him.

“Tell me everything,” he insisted softly.

You excitedly recounted the last week, everything from last minute gift shopping with Tessa and Alejandra at an overcrowded mall to dinner with Bev and her family. You savored every detail he shared with you about his home. It was obvious that he was grateful for the time with his father and you appreciated the glimpse into that part of Javier’s life. The fact that you were racking up long-distance minutes didn’t even faze you. Simply put, you could listen to him talk all day.

“You still there?”

“Yes,” you said hoarsely.

“You okay?”

“I just missed your voice,” you admitted softly.

There was a rustling on his end. “Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement that kindled something inside you.

“Yeah,” you hesitated, racking your brain for something to say. “Just, um, just listening to you talk turns me on, Javi.”

There was a long, quiet moment and you worried that you’d said the wrong thing until–

“Will you touch yourself for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you answered quickly. “But only if you touch yourself for me.”

“Of course.” You could hear the smile in his voice just as clearly as the clink of his belt. You bit back a smile of your own as you slid a hand beneath your waistband and into your dampening panties. Your fingers met your core, warm and wet just at the thought of him. “Wish I– I could see you right now,” he stuttered. You imagined him wrapping a large hand around his cock, stroking himself until he was achingly hard. “What are you wearing?”

You stifled a laugh. You vividly remembered his reaction to the risqué lingerie you wore the last time the two of you were together. What you had on at the moment paled in comparison. “Do you want the truth or would you rather imagine something sexy?”

“The truth,” he answered easily.

“I’m wearing an old sweatshirt and a pair of sleep shorts.”

“The shorts with the little dogs and the pink bow?”

“Yes,” you replied reluctantly.

“I can picture you perfectly.” Javier laughed, deep and genuine. The sound made you giddy. And then his tone changed in an instant. “Fuck yourself with your fingers. Tell me how it feels.”

You moaned into the receiver as you penetrated yourself, two fingers sliding in easily. “Feels good. But I like when your fingers stretch me out.”

“I know what you mean,” he grunted as he fisted himself. Your hearing felt heightened as you relished every sigh, every grunt, every moan he gifted you. “I want to put my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours so fucking badly. You always look so good on your knees for me.”

Your body shuddered at his words and the sweet spot your fingers hit inside you. “I want–” You paused, tongue darting out to lick your lips as you summoned the courage to say what you were thinking.

“Tell me,” he encouraged.

“Next time I suck you off, I want you to fuck my face.”

Javier’s sharp inhale echoed loudly in your ear. In the background, you heard his hand speed up. Your whole body felt flushed and your skin practically burned, both from your admission and his reaction. “You’d let me do that?” he ground out.

“I’d let you do anything to me,” you whimpered as you quickened your own pace. You wanted to follow him wherever he was going.

“Holy shit.” The slight quiver in his voice stoked the flames inside you that licked at your nerves, setting you alight. You could make each other unravel in the best of ways. “You’re gonna make me cum too soon if you keep saying shit like that.”

“But I want you to cum for me, Javi.”

His depraved groan filtered through the phone to you. You could picture his beautifully twisted face and gritted teeth, his broad heaving chest and straining muscles as he fucked his hand through his release.

“Did you cum all over yourself Javi?” you asked sweetly when he seemed to come down from his high.

“Yeah,” he laughed through heavy breaths. “Your turn,” he said darkly.

You moaned as you removed your hand from your core and swirled your fingers around your clit. You were almost there. You just needed the right push. “Talk to me, Javi.”

“If I was there, I’d make you clean me up. Lick every drop off of me.”

“Yes!” you gasped, throwing your head back against the couch cushion even as you attempted to cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“When I get back, I’m gonna fill you. Then I’ll paint those pretty tits. Cover your face with my cum.” You cried out and he cursed. “You’re fucking filthy and you’re all mine. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Javi,” you whined. “I’m so close.”

“I know. Give it to me, baby. Let me hear you cum.”

With just the perfect amount of pressure, you hit your peak, body spasming and cunt clenching around nothing. You didn’t shy away from him as you came with a wail. You wanted him to hear exactly what he could do to you. Even if it was by your own hands.

As your pleasure coursed through your veins, you felt better than you had in days. But something was missing. It wasn’t quite the same if Javier wasn’t there to hold you after, to kiss your sweat-slicked brow and murmur sweet endearments against your temple. Still dizzy from your orgasm, you let that little detail slip out. “I really wish you were here with me right now.”

“Believe it or not, I actually miss your place.”

“I thought you hated it.”

“I like it, but only because you’re there.”

“How come you never take me to your apartment?” you asked. It was a question that had nagged you for a few weeks. “You said you would.”

“I know. How about you and Sunny pick me up from the airport and we’ll spend New Year’s Eve there,” he suggested airily as if making plans for any ordinary day.

You sat up, suddenly alert. “But you’re not coming back until the sixth.”

“I changed my flight.”

“Why?” you blurted out.

There was a long pause, and a heavy sigh came through the receiver. “You know why,” Javier answered lowly.

Your throat constricted and your eyes watered as you processed the gesture. He was willing to give up precious time with his family to spend the holiday with you. You pressed the back of your hand to your forehead as you tried to compose yourself enough to reply.

“I can’t wait,” you said shakily around a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spanish Translations**  
>  ¿Qué viste allí?: what did you see there?  
> ¿Quien es ella?: who is she?  
> No es nada: It's nothing  
> ¿Ella es tu novia?: she's your girlfriend?  
> Si. Creo que sí: Yes. I think so.
> 
> ... . ...
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **curriculum vitae** _noun_ cur·ric·u·la vi·tae _Latin_. the course of one’s life.
> 
> In this chapter, Javier returns to Los Angeles to spend New Year's Eve with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plan to have this chapter our at the start of the month didn't pan out, but here is the NYE chapter. Finally! I hope that you all enjoy it and are having a wonderful start to 2021. Thank you, as always, for reading and supporting this story. Sending lots of love!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW – semi-explicit sexual content, l*ve m*king. Feelings. Domesticity. 18+ only.

As you stood outside gate C14, you tightened your grip on Sunny’s leash. With a wagging tail and shining eyes, she pulled in every direction, determined to greet every passing traveler.

“Hey,” you whispered, “I know you’re excited but be good before they kick us both out.” You weren’t exactly sure if she was supposed to be there but sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. She made a displeased whining noise as she sat down next to you. “Don’t you want to see Javi?” Her ears perked up at the familiar name. “I thought so.”

You glanced back at the gate through the crowd of people. There was still no sign of any disembarking passengers. You took a deep breath and tamped down your own excitement, deciding to crouch down next to Sunny and pet her rather than stare at the empty gate. Your affectionate touch calmed the both of you.

So when she yipped again, you knew exactly why.

Glancing up, you found Javier scanning the crowd and his eyes were drawn to Sunny’s bark. A grin broke out on his face that certainly matched yours.

The two of you met somewhere in the middle. You don’t even remember making the conscious decision to move toward him. It was just instinctual. Like the way you threw your arms around Javier’s neck and his wound around your waist as your lips met in one long deep kiss that left you weak in the knees. You leaned into him, knowing he’d keep you steady, and savored the way he hummed in pleasure against your lips.

“Hi,” Javier breathed as he rested his forehead against yours. You traced the curve of his smile with the pad of your thumb as you cupped his cheek. It was one of those perfect ones that crinkled the corners of his eyes and left him looking years younger. And so damn happy.

“Hi,” you echoed, unsure if you could find another word in that moment. But maybe you didn’t need to say anything else. It was enough just to feel his arms around you again.

“I missed this,” he murmured. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Javi.” Your eyes fell as you took him in. Long-sleeved plaid shirt tucked into his well-fitting dark wash jeans and paired with his signature boots. You ran your hands over the soft material covering his chest. “You didn’t have to come back,” you whispered.

“I wanted to.”

“What about your dad?”

“He has plenty of family to spend the night with. He was fine with me leaving early.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “When he found out you were spending New Year’s Eve alone, he smacked me upside the head and told me to get on the next plane to LA.” You made a surprised noise that quickly turned into giggles. “Don’t laugh at that. That’s not funny,” he said with a smile of his own.

You laced your fingers with his and kissed the back of his hand, trying to hide your grin. “It is, actually.” Your smile fell. “Still, you didn’t have to come back just for me.”

“Yes, I did. I wouldn’t have been happy knowing you were alone. I’m right where I want to be.” His grin widened and you felt a quiet laugh in his chest. “I don’t think you were the only one who missed me.” You followed his eyes to find Sunny, tongue out and tail wagging, with two paws on Javier’s hip as she vied for his attention. He let go of you only to kneel down to greet her. “ _Si, si, te extrañé_ ,” he shushed as he tried to calm the excited dog. Your heart soared as he planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“Should we stop by baggage claim?” you asked.

“Nope.” He stood and swung a worn leather duffle over his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

You tried not to read much into his turn of phrase as he slung an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the busy terminal. “So,” you decided to prod as you waited at the crosswalk leading to the parking garage, “you told your dad about me?”

“Well, he figured it out.” He continued only at your confused expression. “He said I was happy.”

You kissed him. “I’m happy too,” you said, slipping a hand in his back pocket and squeezing his ass through his denim jeans. That earned you a wolfish grin that brought out that lone dimple just for you.

… . …

“It looks like 1985 in here,” you commented as soon as Javier could even set his duffle and your overpacked tote on the kitchen counter and flick on the lights. “Well, at least the parts you’ve unboxed.”

“Didn’t want to get too settled.” You peered over your shoulder at him with a bit of a scowl. All he could offer in response was a shrug as he slid your coat off your shoulders and hung it next to his. “I didn’t know if I would last the first week of classes let alone the first month.”

“You absolutely did. You survived the whole fall quarter.”

“Only because of you.”

Two fingers gripped his chin and turned his face toward yours. Your eyes locked onto his. “You’ve got to start giving yourself some credit, Javier. You’re a damn good professor. Whether you like it or not.”

“Wouldn’t you rather inspect what I have decorated?” he asked, placing two hands on your hips and spinning you around. “I know you’re dying to.”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a light laugh. With a firm hand on the small of your back as he pushed you further into the apartment. “Bedroom and bathroom are that way,” he said, pointing down the dark hall.

You gestured to the closed door on the opposite side of the living room. “What’s that room?”

“Empty spare bedroom.”

“God, I hate you. You have a gorgeous two-bedroom apartment in Brentwood, and you don’t even appreciate it. An empty room, boxes still unopened. Why don’t we ever come here? Your place is so much better than mine.”

“It’s fucking depressing,” he scoffed.

“I could help you make it feel like home.” You meant that innocently. He could hear it in your tone. You were probably only referring to adding a few throw pillows or candles or something like that, but already just having you there felt different. He’d thought he was going back home to Texas, but the truth was he felt more at home now just by being with you. “Yeah, I think you could.” You might’ve responded, but something caught your attention.

Almost reverently, you picked up a framed photograph off the lone bookshelf in his living room. “Your mother?” you asked quietly. He didn’t have to look at the photo to know which one you were drawn to.

“Yes,” he answered as he moved to stand behind you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you back against his chest so he could peer down at the black and white photo in your hands. He was maybe five. Just a gangly boy with limbs too long for his own good and a cast on one arm from when he’d fallen off his new bike. That younger version of him sat his mother’s lap in front of a birthday cake lit with thirty-some odd candles. Much like the way he held you in that moment, his father stood behind the pair with his arms around his wife. She wore a dazzling smile that his aunts swore he inherited from her. If he remembered correctly, his father was behind the camera, muttering something that made them all laugh at the time.

“She was beautiful,” you commented. Lost for words, Javier pressed a kiss to your temple. But the mood clearly shifted. “And you were adorable.” Your eyes narrowed as you looked back at him. “What do you think happened?”

Javier grinned at your dig. “She would’ve liked you.”

You reached for the only other framed photograph. A more recent shot of Javier and an equally mustachioed blond man sitting together at an open-air bar, both looking unusually relaxed and happy with a beer in one and their arms around each other’s shoulders. One of the rare moments like that in Colombia. “This must be Steve,” you observed.

“His wife sent me that as a housewarming gift.”

“That’s so nice of her. You need something to cheer this place up.” Still clutching the photo, you turned in his arms. “Do you– I don’t know if I’ll ever get to meet them, but do you think they would like me?”

He almost laughed at your question. It was genuine on your part but so absurdly unnecessary. “ _Mi compañera_ ,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to yours, “they already do. They were surprised though.”

“Do I want to know why?” you smirked. He had a feeling you already had some inclination as to why that might’ve surprised his closest friends.

“No,” Javier laughed. He watched you as you smiled at the photo, tracing a fingertip along the image of him. A strange feeling gripped his chest. It was as if you were trying to know that version of him. “You never talk about it. I know you don’t like when others ask you about your time in Colombia, but you never even mention anything that happened down there to me.”

“You don’t want to know about any of that.”

“Why not?”

 _Because you won’t like me_ , his traitorous brain supplied. He let you go and joined Sunny on the couch. “Want me to put on the Times Square thing?” he asked instead.

“Yeah sure. I don’t mind either way,” you responded lightly. He cringed inwardly at how habituated you were to him deflecting your questions. Shaking his head at himself, he dug the remote out from between two of the leather couch cushions and switched on the television despite having no intention to watch.

A moment later you joined him on the couch, dropping down next to him unceremoniously as you draped an arm around him. “Don’t mope,” you compelled with a kiss on his cheek. He turned to you with a raised brow. “And don’t look at me like that.”

Javier held your gaze for a long time, entranced by the soft look in your eyes and the way your fingers played with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. That seemed to bring him back to the present moment. “How does pizza sound?” he asked instead of a reply.

As expected, you smiled and nodded happily.

… . …

Much like your own at home, Javier’s kitchen table was covered with stacks of books, papers, and folders. Rather than clearing it off, the two of you sat on the floor around his coffee table eating pizza slices straight from the box. With the television muted in the background, you talked quietly, mostly recounting the little things that had happened while you were apart. You asked him more questions about his family, and he seemed keen to answer. You’d learned to savor every bit of himself that he elected to share with you.

After dinner, you wandered over to the unsurprisingly well-stocked bar cart, fingers dancing over the crystal glasses and bottles of whiskey and tequila as you contemplated pouring a couple of drinks. Until you noticed something amongst the mess on his kitchen table.

You picked up a book with dozens of sticky notes peeking out of it and flipped through the pages.

_Talk about this in lecture._

_Assign this chapter next quarter._

_Fuck. She’s brilliant._

The notes went on for pages and pages. When you finally lifted your head, finding him across the room through watery eyes, Javier looked like a boy caught red handed. His wide brown eyes locked on to you as he gauged your reaction. “You’re reading my book?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded quietly. “I finished it. It’s amazing.”

“Ja– Javi.” You attempted to speak but his name was just a broken sob.

He was on his feet in an instant. With a hand on either arm, he attempted to soothe you. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” you insisted as you roughly wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Honey,” he chided as he pulled your hand away and replaced it with his own, cupping your cheek and wiping your errant tears with his thumb. “Why does that upset you?”

“I’m not upset.”

“You’re crying.” He would think that. He’d never seen you cry before. You’d cried from laughing at something he’d said on more than one occasion. There were a few tears once when you were frustrated. But nothing like this.

“That– that doesn’t mean I’m upset. It’s just– That’s–” you tried to collect yourself as you fisted the front of his shirt with one hand and pulled him closer. You took a deep breath and met his gaze. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

The scrunched up look on his face was almost comical, and you would’ve laughed any other time. “ _That is_ _?_ ” he asked, dumbfounded. Before he could say anything else, you slotted your mouth with his, kissing him with everything you had. “Of course I read your book,” he assured you, kissing you over and over again. Your body practically melted against his. “You’re fucking amazing, _mi_ _compañera_ ” His hands moved to your face, wiping away the tears. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re... you’re crying again. What’s wrong?”

“I think I–” You stopped yourself. Or rather the words threatened to choke you, so you swallowed them down and hid them away. Instead, you caressed his face as you looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “I need you.”

Javier hesitated, watching you for a moment longer, eyes smoldering as they bored into your soul, before his mouth met yours with renewed determination.

You didn’t even bother looking around Javier’s bedroom as the two of you burst through the door. The two of you were a mess of limbs desperately trying to strip the other of their clothes. He walked you back toward the bed until your calves hit the frame.

“Why are you still holding this?” he asked, prying the book out of your hand and tossing it on his nightstand. He lifted your thick knit sweater off your body and over your head with ease and his hands quickly found the button of your black denim jeans while you worked on his shirt buttons.

As soon as your clothes had fallen aside, he laid you back in his bed, letting you rest against the pillows as he eagerly kissed a frenzied path down your body.

“Javi, wait.” He froze above you with concern in his eyes “Please be gentle with me,” you asked softly.

The implication was clear. And it weighed heavily between you.

Javier nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and you relinquished yourself to him. He changed course, and his lips found yours once more. While he kissed you, his fingers gently prodded you, stretching you out and readying your body for him. You whimpered against hip lips, wanting more than anything to feel him inside you.

“Shh, baby,” he shushed you huskily, intertwining your fingers in a tender gesture, “I’ve got you now.” You spread your legs wider, aching for him. Only him. And mercifully, he lined himself at your entrance, dripping with your desire, and slowly thrust forward, filling you to the hilt and stealing the air from your lungs.

As he moved inside you, every kiss, every touch seared your skin with invisible brands that would mark you forever as belonging to Javier. And you let him.

Neither of you said much of anything, preferring to simply breath each other in. You let the moans and mewls falling from your lips fill the room as your bodies rejoined and relearned each other. Hand in hand and warm skin on warm skin.

Until a wave of euphoria pulled you asunder and you came hard and shaking beneath him.

“You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” You only heard his murmurs of praise as you broke the surface and came up for air. He kissed away the teardrops streaking your cheeks. You tried weakly to apologize for crying again. “It’s okay,” he assured you, “I feel it too.”

You gaped at him as you watched him move above you, still buried deep inside you, chest heaving and some unspoken emotion drowning his eyes. You wanted him to feel everything that you did in that moment. Wanted to make him to feel the same sticky sweet pleasure

With little resistance, you pushed Javier onto his back and straddled his hips. He looked divine beneath you. His hands reverently caressed your back as you settled on top of him before snaking around your body to hold you tightly against him. You pressed your forehead to his as you rolled your hips, sliding up and down his cock and coating him with your creamy pussy.

Only when his chest hallowed with a broken, desperate groan did you finally take pity and sink down on him. You caught his sharp exhale with your lips. You focused on kissing him, pouring all your affection into him, and he slowly rocked up into you. It was unrushed and unhurried, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. Maybe you did.

“I need you to cum with me. Right now.” His fingers found your clit, coaxing a second climax from you.

“Let go for me,” you whispered against his ear.

Javier shattered beautifully under your touch.

… . …

Javier pulled back the bedsheets for you as you slipped back into bed next to him after spending way too long in a steaming hot shower together. “Did you bring these for me?” he asked, fingering the fabric of your satin sleep shorts with a lopsided grin. Dozens of little embroidered dogs dotted the fabric.

“Yes,” you chirped. “They always seem to make you smile.”

He shook his head at you. “No, honey, you make me smile.”

When he said things like that, he took the breath right out of your lungs. The rest of the world faded away and nothing else mattered. It was only the two. It was then that you noticed the time on the clock behind him. Time hadn’t stopped after all. In fact, it was 12:01 on the dot.

“Happy New Year, Javi,” you said with a smile. “I think this is going to be a really good year.”

“I do too,” he agreed. He cupped your cheek and guided your lips to his for a midnight kiss. “Happy New Year, baby. Now c’mere.”

You laughed as Sunny responded to his command. She seemed to appear from nowhere only to hop up on the bed and lay half on top of him with her head on his chest. “Yeah, you too,” he smiled, scratching behind her ears. You indulged for a moment, hoping you could commit the scene to memory. But Javier looked like he was on the verge of sleep, so you switched off the small lamp and happily curled up next to him. He draped an arm across your waist as you looked up at him. “I fucking missed my girls,” he mumbled before drifting off into a dream. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you watched him in the faint moonlight.

You weren’t sure if it was the holiday season or that magical stroke of midnight, but as you gazed up at him, you realized you didn’t just want Javier to be your yesterday, today or tomorrow. You wanted him to be your whole future. You wanted to spend your whole life with him because…

Your heart belonged to Javier Peña. You loved him. Truly, deeply loved him.

That thought didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spanish Translations:**  
>  Te extrañé: I missed you
> 
> ... . ...  
>  **Chapter Inspo**  
>  It's been a while since I've had any proper inspiration photos to share with you, but if I may, I'd like to humbly submit [this](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/post/640253308397879297/bestintheparsec-for-science-cont) for your viewing pleasure 😌
> 
> ... . ...
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


End file.
